Will You Marry Me?
by da queen dragomir
Summary: Clarissa Fray is fresh out of college and can't find a job for the life of her, She moves to New York with her brother's promise to find her a good playing job and a place to live. However, this new life isn't exactly what she expected. Her new employer, Jace Wayland, needs someone to be his fiance and fast, before he gets fired. Can Clary handle it?
1. Marry Me?

**Okay! Hi there guys :) I'm Lissa! Some of you may know me for some of my other stories for Vampire Academy but this is unoficially my first Mortal Instruments fanfic (I tried doing that twelve days of Christmas thing on tumblr but it didn't work out too well). Anyways, this story is based roughly on one of those interactive story video game things I played a long time ago. Recently the plot line has been coming back to me so I decided it would make a nice fanfic :) Try to ease up on the jumping to conclusions, guys, that's always a problem i've had with hate. Seriously, any questions just ask. I'm sure it's not whatever you have in mind or I have a reason for what you do have in mind. Thanks :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instruments and this plot is based on a video game a played a while ago (I'll see if I can find the name of it)**

Clary stepped out of the airport gate, trying to shuffled past the crowds of people. She couldn't have imagined a place this large, even for New York. The airport in her hometown would never have been this crowded. Given, this was a city—new territory for her. Her mom would never had let her leave if Clary hadn't managed to hunt down her elder brother. He was hard to get a hold of now and days, but she guessed that would make sense because her brother was CEO of one of the largest companies in the city (meanwhile she was a fresh college graduate with a degree in art who couldn't manage to get a job if it saved her life; Which was why she was here). He had promised he could get her a job and a place to live... and it was New York... so she came over as fast as she could. Now, Clary chewed on her lip as she searched the crowd, looking for her brother's blond hair since it was the only true feature of his she could recall.

"Clary!" She whirled and saw a man waving at her—Sebastian. He looked older than when they had been kids, the baby fat that had once haunted his face was gone, replaced with broad muscle. His facial structure had sharpened, and he was taller, too (which was not fair because Clary hadn't grown an inch since about eighth grade). He wore a prim, well-fitted suit—a hint of the successful business man that he was. With a grin, she ran over, pulling him into a hug. No matter how different he looked, his hugs were still the best.

His arms looped around her waist as he led her back to an expensive looking car and drove Clary back to his house.

"You're going to stay here tonight while we get your living arrangements worked out," he said after showing her around the house (which was huge).

Clary frowned, "we?" She asked, since his tone of voice didn't sound as if he were referring to the two of them.

"Yes," he replied, taking her luggage and pulling it into his guest room, "one of my friends is helping you out. It's best you don't unpack just yet."

"Okay..." She watched her brother from the doorway. It had only just occurred to her that though he had spoken to her about a well paying job, he hadn't exactly entailed what she would be doing in that job, "and my job?"

"Don't worry, that's handled, too. I'll make an arrangement for a meeting so we can have all of the details sorted out," he sounded a lot more like he was making a business deal than being a caring brother, she noted. Sebastian checked his watch as if he had somewhere to be, "I have to go, Clary," apparently he did, "I'll be back in a few hours so we can eat dinner together. Make yourself at home, and help yourself to anything," he gave her a hug and slipped some money into her hand, "there's a grocery store across the street. Do you mind getting a few things for me?" Clary scowled, but remembered how much her brother was helping her out. She sighed, but nodded, "great. There's a shopping list on the counter. You can get something you'd like for yourself, too. Love you."

Then the door shut, and Clary was staring after it. Her brother was...different. He talked so quickly, he hardly left time for objection. Maybe that was a business strategy, but it was annoying. With a heavy sigh, she walked over to the counter, "let's see what we have..." She mumbled as she scanned over the list, thinking she might as well get it over with.

Tucking both the list and the money in her pocket, she walked over to the nearest store, hoping it was the one her brother had in mind.

The store wasn't as busy as she would expect from a New York store, but she guessed her brother wouldn't want to live near anywhere too crowded. He found a place on the outskirts of the city, from what she could tell. Still, this place was foreign to her, and she had to read all the signs to even begin to guess where to find the foods on the list.

She walked into the spice isle, staring up dejectedly at the chili powder she wanted...on the top shelf. The world was cruel. She balanced on the very tip of her toes, using one of the lower shelves as leverage. Her fingertips just barely brushed the spice, slowly inching it towards the edge of the shelf. That was when  
she lost her balance.

"Hey!" She fell back into a tall boy with blonde hair, nearly knocking him into the next shelf. He caught at her arm after quickly regaining his balance, steadying her. His handsome face was turned up in a part way smirk, part way glare. It was the odd, yet very attractive, "I've seen a lot of girls trying to throw themselves at me, but this is by far the worst attempt."

Clary snatched her arms away. She had been about to apologize but the following comment made her want to slap him. He ignored her glare, walking around her as he reached up and grabbed the spice with ease, dropping it into her basket. She glared, "I didn't need your help."

"Well that's the New York spirit," he drawled, "but that's not the way to thank me. Or get me to help you further."

Clary crossed her arms, "and who says I need your help?"

"You've been wandering the store for a while, you've obviously not been here very many times, if at all. Besides, if any of the other items on your list," he nodded at the paper in her hands, "are higher than you can reach, you're going to need someone to still you from destroying the store."

He was observant. She had to give him that much. Besides, he sounded like he knew his way around the store and that would speed up her shopping.

"Fine," she handed him the list, "Knock yourself out."

The guy paused for a moment, looking from the Clary to the list, before he rolled his eyes and silently began gathering everything, without even a word to her. She had to scurry to keep up with him.

"There," he said as he shoved the basket at her, as if she had just been the biggest inconvenience to him. He was the one who persisted, she thought, she didn't ask him to she could even say so much as thanks, he had walked away.

"Rude," she grumbled under her breath, going to the check out. Were all the guys in New York like that? She rolled her eyes at the thought as she payed the cashier.

* * *

"Clarissa?" Clary blinked her eyes open as someone gently shook her shoulder. Sebastian's green eyes stared back at her, "Hey. When I got home you were knocked out on the couch. I guess I forgot how tired you must be from traveling," she sat up, eyes darting over to the clock on the wall, "Did you get the groceries?" He asked.

She nodded at the bag on the counter, "I didn't know where you wanted them, so the only things I put away was what needed to go in the fridge."

"Thanks," he ruffled her hair, something he used to do when they were younger, though he hadn't done it in a long while, "did you get something to eat? Sorry I came home later than I expected."

"Don't worry about it," she stood up, "I figured as much, so I made one of the frozen pizzas," she yawned as she got off the couch, stretching out, "there's still some left if you want it. Besides, we can always have dinner together another time, it's not like I'm leaving any time soon," she gave him a hug and kissed his cheek, "Night, Seb."

"Night," he whispered, still standing in the kitchen, looking a little upset as he watched her walk into the guest room.

* * *

Clary woke up the next day to the sound of voices in the kitchen. She sat up in bed, stretching out her back and yawning. After having gone to bed in the same clothes she had traveled in, she felt extremely grimy and her eyes couldn't help but wander back to the bathroom door, tempted to take a shower. Sebastian wouldn't have a problem with it. Yet, the voices made her curious. She pulled herself onto her feet, deciding she was going to see who the voices were coming from before she took a shower.

"No, Jace," Sebastian sounded angry, "I don't think you understand. I don't think this is a fair way to treat her," the was a pause as whoever this "Jace' was responded, "I don't think you—yes, I want to help you!" he groaned but then his eyes landed on her, "I have to go, Jace," he hit end before Jace could say another word.

Clary frowned, "Who was that?" she asked curiously. A colleague of his? She would imagine that Sebastian would talk so informally.

Sebastian hesitated, "The man I had told you about," he answered, "The one who will be helping you find your job and place to live."

"And his name is Jace?" she asked.

"Jonathan is his full name, but he prefers Jace. I've set up a meeting for you two," Clary turned her eyes back to her brother, eyes expectant.

They both had startling green eyes, she noticed, but that was were their similarities ended. He resembled their late father as much as Clary resembled her mother, almost a carbon copy with her petite frame, freckles, and thick, curly red hair.

After moments had passed and he still didn't seem to understand what her gaze was asking him, she sighed—exasperatedly so—and asked, "When?"

"Oh," against his pale skin, his cheeks colored slightly. It wouldn't have been noticeable if his skin was a shade darker, Clary mused, beginning to wonder how she would shade her brother in a drawing. He's probably inside too often, so caught up in work he never has time to catch the sun. Clary used to be just as pale as him, maybe even more so, since usually her skin was so sensitive it skipped the tanning phase entirely and just burned. She had fixed that over her college years in Florida, where she had very carefully tried to darken her skin tone to an average, normal looking color. It had worked a little and she was still proud of it (though her endless freckles still stood out like a sore thumb).

"Clary?"

She frowned and brought her attention back to her brother, "hmm?" she asked, noticing his look. She suspected that he had probably said her name a couple times.

"I said your meeting is in two hours. Are you okay?"

She scowled. His tone of voice had sounded as if he already knew the answer, and it wasn't a good one, "I'm fine," she said, "I just wasn't paying attention," he held up his hands in surrender, and she sighed, "Two hours is enough time to get ready," she said, trying to regain her focus, "How should I dress?"

His eyes scanned her up and down. Despite his relation to her, she still suddenly felt insecure under his gaze and shifted uncomfortably. There was no doubt that he noticed. Being the successful man he was, there probably wasn't much that went past him, "Just wear something nice."

"Formal?"

No," he shook his head, "Not the least bit."

* * *

Two hours later, she was sitting in the passenger seat of her brother's shiny black Mercedes, which looked brand new despite his telling her otherwise. The inside was clean and spotless, which only further led her to believe it was new. The only thing it was missing was that new car smell, which instead was "the Apple Spice" of the air freshener that hung from the rear-view mirror.

"Quit fidgeting," he said beside her, kind but firm. She sighed and shut the mirror on the sun visor. She had been been fidgeting, because she was nervous. First of all, her brother's instructions towards her attire hadn't exactly been clear. She wasn't meant to look formal? Wasn't this a formal meeting? And honestly, Clary wasn't even sure what "nice" was, or if she was capable of being it, "You look fine."

"Will Jace think I look fine?"

There was another pause. She frowned and brought her eyes towards her brother, raising both of her eyebrows since she couldn't raise only one. Sebastian glanced at her, sighed, then brought his attention quickly back to the road, "Jace is a hard man to please so I don't know."

"Well thanks," Clary rolled her eyes, "That really helped."

"There's no need to be nervous. It doesn't matter what Jace thinks."

"Huh?" Clary frowned, suddenly questioning what exactly Jace's role in her new life played. She had been imagining him as her employer, or at least her adviser. _Shouldn't_ it matter what he thinks? Any further questioning, however, was cut off as Sebastian pulled into a parking lot, "We're meeting at a _bar_!?" Clary demanded.

Sebastian sighed as he took his keys out of the ignition and opened the door, "Yes, Clary. We're meeting at a bar."

Clary frowned as she got out of the car and scurried after her brother, silently cursing his height for allowing him to walk faster, "it looks closed."

"It is closed."

Clary snorted, "So what? We're meeting in the back alley? Are you guys secretly the mafia or is this a premeditated murder?"

"It's not a murder," Sebastian said dryly, "We're kidnapping you," he caught the look she was sending him and groaned, "Oh, would you calm down? Alec owns this bar, he's Jace's brother. And besides, it's a nice bar," he opened the door with ease, though she would have thought it was locked.

Sebastian hadn't been lying when he said it was nice. The lighting was dim, but it highlighted the granite bar at the center of the room, with bar stools organized neatly around it. To fill empty spaces were wooden tables, and red booths sat at the walls. From the ceiling hung multicolored lamps, giving everything around an incandescent glow. The first thing Clary thought as she entered the room was that she would have loved to paint it.

Standing on opposite sides of the bar were two males. The one behind the bar, with dark black hair, was facing her, so she could see his bright blue eyes as he made a drink. She guessed he must be Alec. The other one, standing on the other side of the bar—Jace—had golden hair and broad shoulders. He was dressed in a black suit that made Clary narrow her eyes the second she saw it. Her brother had told her not to dress formally.

Seeing her stare, Sebastian leaned down, "He just came from work," he whispered in her ear, "He's required to dress like that."

Still, Clary felt underdressed. The only thing that helped her feel a little better was that Alec wore a lose fitting t-shirt and (if she had to guess, jeans as well). He saw them first. When he did, the grinning, lighthearted look he had on his face faded. She watched as he said something to Jace, which caused him to turn around. His grin faded as well. Her eyes widened.

"You!" they said at the same time.

"You two know each other?" Sebastian asked, looking and sounding as surprised as Jace and Clary.

"We've met," she answered with a frown, "But I wouldn't say we know each other. I ran into him in the store," Jace snorted and mumbled something under his breath, "Say that again?" she challenged, crossing her arms.

Jace ignored her and turned his eyes to Sebastian, "Who is she, Sebastian?" he asked. She stared into his eyes, finding it remarkable how such a light, beautiful color could be clouded with such anger and disbelief. _Who was she!? Shouldn't he know?_

"This is my sister, Jace," Sebastian said slowly, answering Clary's question that he _should _know, "Clary."

Jace didn't look happy. He didn't say anything after that, he just stared at her, scrutinizing her. Clary met his gaze, expecting him to be embarrassed at having been caught and turning away, but he didn't even seem to care. Eventually she turned away, uncomfortable. Unsure where else to look, her attention turned to Alec, curious about the boy who looked nothing like his brother, but he was glaring at her. She chewed her lip and desperately turned to Sebastian, "My job?" she asked, hoping he would stop these two from staring at her the way they were.

"Jace, there's no room for you to be picky," was the only thing he said.

Clary felt like ripping her hair out. Her brother hadn't said anything, so she felt that she needed to, "Stop starring at me," she snapped at them, her cheeks now flushed, then she turned her eyes to Sebastian, "Picky about what?"

"Jace is going to be your employer. He's desperate."

"I wouldn't call it desperate," Jace said under his breath. Clary looked at his hands, which were gripping the edge of the bar so hard his knuckles had turned white, then to Alec, who had finally stopped staring at her.

"You are desperate, Jace," he chimed in, and Jace turned to glare at him. Alec only grinned, shrugging his shoulders.

Sebastian sighed, "Here's the deal, Jace needs-"

"Let me explain it," Jace said, his hands releasing the granite at last. Sebastian nodded, and now all eyes were on Jace as he walked over to Clary. He was tall, so Clary only went up to his chest and needed to look up to see his face, "I need you to be my wife."

Clary nearly choked.

"Way to be blunt, Jace," she heard Alec mumble to himself.

Clary was about to demand for more answers when Jace cut her off, "My fake wife, I mean. I work at an all-girls prep school and the only male teachers they allow must be married. I lied during my interview. I told them I had a fiance but we weren't married yet."

Clary was flabbergasted. How did you even respond to something like that? There was a heavy silence as she waited patiently for someone to tell her it was a joke and they could all laugh about it later. No one said anything and the silene ensued, loud and suffocating. The weight of it nearly crushed her more than Jace's words did, until she couldn't take it anymore.

"Of course not!" she exclaimed, turning her eyes to each and everyone one of them until they landed on Jace, "Are you out of your mind?"

Jace looked surprised. She took it that girls didn't very often say no to him. He was very attractive, the sort of person you would only find in movies or in art, but never in real life. Most girls would jump at the chance to fake marry him, she supposed. So hecould go find one of them.

When no one said anything, she continued, "You shouldn't of lied in your interview! You should have found a different school! But there's no way I'm marrying you, even if it's pretend."

"You don't need to marry me!" Jace said quickly, "You just need to be my fiance for a couple weeks. Please," he caught at her wrist. Clary's eyes flew towards the movement, staring at it until he released her hand. He was rude, blunt, and arrogant, from what she could tell about him. She couldn't even imagine what it would be like to pretend she was in love with him.

"No way!" she snapped.

Jace turned his eyes pleadingly towards Sebastian. He should have let him talk in the first place if he wanted her assistance so bad. He had experience in convincing people to do things,as a buisnessman, and he was her brother. Maybe Jace realized that.

"Clary," Sebastian said softly, "What else are you going to do? If you accept this job, you'll have a place to stay and you''ll be paid for it."

She whirled on him, quickly picking up on what he was suggesting, "You're not going to let me live with you?" she asked, throat going dry.

Sebastian looked sad but shook his head. Clary felt nothing but betrayal. He let her come here with such hope, thinking she was finally going to have a job and a good place to stay while she worked on her career as an artist, and the entire time he was planning on forcing her to do this!? The first time she had seen her brother in years... tears stung behind her eyes, but she tilted chin up, keeping her head held high. She wouldn't let them see how upset this had made her.

"And I'm staying with you?" she asked Jace. Her tone shook slightly, with anger or sadness she did not know.

"Yes."

Clary gritted her teeth, "Why?"

"Because only after I got the job did I find out the vice principle I work for is in the same apartment complex. He's starting to get very suspicious."

"Why don't you quit, then?" she snapped, clenching her fists together to keep down her anger. She wouldn't even look at Sebastian.

"Look," Jace said, getting impatient, "Do you want to take the job or not?"

"You heard my brother, I don't have a choice," not unless she wanted to go back home and live with her mom, dependent and broke once again. She didn't want to do that, not even if it meant this. She was an adult now, she needed to handle this. She swallowed to try to moisten her mouth, "How long do I have to do this for?"

"Only a couple weeks, until the school isn't suspicious. Maybe I'll move out afterward, tell them I wanted a bigger house so we could start a family," he already had this figured out, it seemed like.

"And my pay?"

"I pay you at the end," he said, "only after you help me convince the school."

Clary crossed her arms, "How much?" she demanded.

"I'll make it worth your while," Jace replied vaguely, "Do you accept?"

_N__o!I _Clary wanted to scream _No, no, no! Never! Never in a million years!_ Instead, she clenched her fist and, not trusting her voice, she nodded. But she couldn't help herself, and after making sure she could speak without her voice cracking, she added, "Why me? Why not any random girl on the street?"

"Sebastian told me you were coming," Clary narrowed her eyes, "it would be an easy story if anyone asks us how we met. I met you through my friend Sebastian, you're his sister. It's true and it makes sense. If anyone looked you up, they would see we were telling the truth. Besides, they've seen me around with Sebastian. I was hoping you would look more like him so they could see the resemblance," he spoke so calmly, she thought. He made it sound as if this wasn't even a big deal, like people did this all the time.

Clary glared, "Whatever," she growled, just growing angrier and angrier with her brother, "When do we start?"

"Now."

That managed to surprise her out of her bad mood, "Now?" she frowned, "What about my luggage?"

"It's in the car," Sebastian said, finally speaking up. Like she had just thrown a boomerang, her rage returned at double what it had originally been. He looked sheepish, but Clary refused to acknowledge him, "I'll go get it."

He scampered off as Clary turned her eyes back to Jace, who was grinning wildely, 'It looks like a deal!" he said. Clary wondered just what she had gotten herself into.

**Thanks guys :D tell me what you think! If feedback is good i'll keep going**


	2. Live with me?

**Okay guys, so I feel as if this chapter is a little bit pointless and plot-less but I really wanted to post today so I was in a rush to get it done, and it sort of ended more like a filler than intended. It might end up being like that a lot on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, though. Because those are the days I have soccer practice late. Actually, sometimes I may not even be able to post on those days, but we'll see. Anyways, here's your chapter for now, not as good nor carefully proofreaded. Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: Plot sort of based off of a game and characters belong to Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare. **

Later that night, Clary found herself walking out of Alec's bar, her backpack slung over her shoulder and her suitcase in hand. Jace walked beside her. Apparently, his house was in walking distance and it was a trek he made almost daily. Walking at night in New York, however (even with someone like Jace), made her nervous.

"You didn't bring very much stuff with you," Jace commented.

Clary looked down at the small case filled with clothes and various trinkets she felt she couldn't leave without, "I don't have very much stuff to bring," she responded, "I thought I was going to be starting a new life."

"You are," Jace said, tucking his hands into his pockets, "Didn't you hear us back there? You're my new fiance."

"Pretend fiance," Clary felt the need to add. She didn't know who Jace was, not really. She knew her brother at least had the sense not to force her to live with someone who would hurt her, but she still felt uncomfortable with the title she had picked up, "And while we're on that subject, what exactly is my job?"

Jace looked irritated for a moment, "You're meant to pretend to be my wife. It's a fairly straightforward concept. Forgive me for assuming you were intelligent enough to understand what the task is asking of you."

Clary rolled her eyes. She silently dreaded living with this jerk, "I understand that, but it's not like I've ever been married before. How am I meant to act?"

Jace stared at her through merged eyebrows, perplexed as if she were a puzzle he was meant to solve,"Haven't you had a boyfriend before, Clary?"

She blushed at the personal question. Clary had never really been too popular with men, honestly, but she had managed a couple boyfriends over the years (if you also count her friend Simon). But Jace, she thought, looked like the kind of guy who has been with thousands of girls. Whatever number of boys she had been with he would probably find miniscule and pathetic, "Of course I have," she snapped, "but dating and marriage is different. I've never lived with a boy before."

Jace's expression softened for a moment, "it's not that different, Clary. It wouldn't be any different than living with your brother," one thing she had decided about Jace is that he always made things sound much more simple than they actually were.

"No it wouldn't," she argued, crossing her arms, "I don't have to pretend like I'm in love with my brother, just an egotistic pain in the ass."

Jace whistled as he stared at her, not looking the least bit affected by the insult,"Strong words for someone who doesn't know who I am."

"Then who are you?" Clary challenged.

"I'm attractive," he said, almost instantly, and then he flashed her a smile that would probably make most girls melt. She pretended not to acknowledge it, though her hand twitched with the sudden urge to capture the beauty of that look on paper.

Instead, she scowled at him, "That's not _who_ you are, that's just what you look like. If people ask why I fell in love with you, I can't tell them it's because of your looks."

"Then tell them..." there was a pause. Jace stopped walking, so Clary followed suit, turning to face him. His golden eyes met hers and for a moment she was frozen, struck by how deep they were. Her breath caught as his hands grabbed her arms, pulling her closer. She dropped her bag.

"Hey!" she snapped, trying not to fall for whatever game this was, "What are you-"

Jace shushed her, his eyes darkening just a shade as they fell over her face. Clary held her breath, "Tell them that you fell in love with me because I take your breath away," tenderly, his hand reached out to push aside a lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear and brushing his fingers against her cheek as he did. It left a trail of warmth in its wake, "Tell them I make you feel as if you are the most beautiful girl in the whole world, that I make you feel loved and special."

Clary narrowed her eyes, suspecting this was a trick he used on women all the time, with what he was doing to his voice. It was like silk and honey and all things beautiful. Some part of her body couldn't help but react, goosebumps sprouted up and down her arms. But..._what was he doing?_ His arms pulled her even closer, tucking her against his body.

"Mr. Wayland?" came a male voice. Jace broke away from Clary, suddenly, eyes wide with surprise. Clary turned her head to the man, then back to Jace, frowning. She saw the side of his lip curl up slightly in a sly smile. Why?

"Mr. Pangborn!" that note of sultry that he had previously been speaking with was gone, and Jace now sounded nothing but formal, "How are you? Oh! This is my fiance, Clary. Clary, this is the vice principle, Mr. Pangborn."

Oh. Now she understood. Jace had seen the vice principle coming by and had pulled her close. That's why he was trying to hide his smile now, most likely. Clary panicked for a moment. She hadn't been expecting to start this soon. How could she pretend to be in love with someone she had only just met?

How was she meant to pretend she loved a man she didn't even know? Especially with so little past relationships to go on? Clary couldn't remember ever having really been _in _love.

After a long moment of silence when Clary hadn't said anything, Jace put his arm around her again, squeezing a little bit too hard—a silent indication it was time to say something.

So Clary forced a smile and found her words, wishing she were a better actress, "Hello Mr. Pangborn, it's nice to meet you," she did her best to lean into Jace, though the movement was slightly awkward.

She watched as Mr. Pangborn's eyes narrowed in on her luggage. Her throat tightened in panic. Oh no. How was she going to explain that? She was a dreadful liar.

"You're too tense," Jace whispered lowly in her ear. She gritted her teeth, but tried to relax despite herself, "come on, Clary, smile," them she felt his grin as he placed a kiss to her cheek. She did her best to smile as he instructed, to look like she was in love. Jace lifted his head back up to Mr. Pangborn, "Clary just got back from visiting her mother," he said with a smile, lifting her suitcase into his hand. She recalled bitterly that he hadn't once offered to carry them before.

"Oh?" Mr. Pangborn surveyed her through his thin-rimmed glasses, "Where's your mother from?"

Clary relaxed. Good. Personal questions she could deal with, "from Florida," she answered with a smile, "it's where my brother and I grew up."

"Your brother?"

"Sebastian Fray. Actually," she looked up to Jace. If she just kept telling the truth, she could get through this. She smiled again, "he's the one who introduced me to Jace."

Jace smiled back, and her breath actually did catch from how genuine it looked. Unlike her, Jace actually could put on a good show, "and I'm very, very glad he did."

Out of the corner or her eye, she watched Mr. Pangborn shift uncomfortably. Jace noticed it, too, because he pulled away with a fake sheepish smile plastered over his face, "Well, it's late and I'm sure Clary's tired. We might as well get home. See you tomorrow, Mr. Pangborn."

"And the same to you, Mr. Wayland. Clary. You two have a nice night," and the vice principle finally walked away.

Clary let out a breath she hadn't known she had been holding.

"We need to work on your acting skills," Jace said the second Mr. Pangborn was out of hearing range, pulling away from Clary as if she had an infectious disease, "That was pathetic."

"Well it's hard to love a stranger," Clary snapped, crossing her arms, "Especially an irritating one."

Jace sighed, "Then make me not a stranger."

Clary frowned, "Huh?"

"Ask me anything. Any three questions you want. I'm an open book," he grinned at her as he splayed his arms out, as if he were a dealer in the game of poker.

"It doesn't work like that," Clary said with a frown, "You can't just force a relationship by asking questions!"

Jace rolled his eyes and groaned, beginning to walk again. He was still holding her luggage, "you're one for arguing, aren't you? No matter the subject, you just enjoy to disagree."

Clary scowled, "No I don't!"

Jace smirked at her, "My point exactly. Are you going to ask or not? You might not get a chance later."

"Fine," Clary grumbled. Coming to a stop outside of an apartment complex, watching Jace open the door for her. She wasn't sure whether to thank him for the gesture or not, and the same went for carrying her bag (though that one he had only really done as a show for the vice principle). Honestly, Clary wasn't the least bit sure how to react to Jace's kind gestures compared to his egotistical ones. Maybe she'd figure it out over her time spent with him, but this time she just walked through the door as if she would not have accepted anything less from her pretend boyfriend.

"Well?" Jace prompted as they walked up the stairs.

"Be quiet," Clary replied distantly, "I'm thinking," three didn't seem enough. There were so many things she wanted to ask him, "Okay. How will you treat me when we're not around the vice principle or anyone else from school?"

Jace's lips curled into a frown and he blinked, "Well, I'm not going to abuse you if that's what you're asking," he shook his head, the movement tossing around the blonde hair on his head, flipping it out of his face so she once against got a good view of his stunning eyes.

Clary frowned, "That's not what I meant. The way you treated me when we were walking was way different than how you treated me when the principle showed up."

"Clary, I'm not going to be treating you much different than I would treat anyone else," he said, "So I don't understand why you would waste a question on that."

She sighed, "Well, I was hoping you would at least stop being so rude," she mumbled, but she guessed that would come with time. Maybe she'd also stop snapping at him after everything he said, too, "Okay. Question number two... What am I supposed to do while you're at work?"

"I don't think you really understand the concept of these questions," Jace said, staring at her like he had been while he was at the bar, having the same result in making her uncomfortable once again. She looked away from his gaze, bringing her attention to the building they had entered. They were passing door after door and she had to make note of what floor they were on otherwise she would get lost and never find her way back to Jace's apartment, "These are meant to be personal questions about me. But if you insist," he sighed as if the simple question was the world's greatest task, "honestly, I don't care what you do when I'm gone. What do you normally do in your free time?"

"I draw," Clary answered instinctively, thinking of the backpack she still had around her shoulder, filled with her art supplies and her beloved sketch pad. "and paint. I'm an artist," she finally turned her eyes back to Jace. He had stopped staring at her, and now he just looked surprised, "Sebastian didn't tell you? Art was my college major."

"I didn't know that," he said softly, "maybe tomorrow we can stop by an art store and get you supplies," they stopped outside a door. 319. They were on the third floor. She needed to remember that. _319 on the third floor, 319 on the third floor, 319 on the third floor_. It was like her new mantra.

Only afterward did his words catch up with her, "Wait," she stopped, bringing her eyes up to Jace, "Really?"

"Of course," Jace put his key into the lock and turned it, once again opening the door for her, "Look, it may not seem like it but I know what it must feel like to come into a strange city and live in a strange home with a strange man. I want you to be at least a little bit comfortable. Besides, I need some personal things to hang on the wall and your paintings would be perfect."

He probably didn't know, Clary thought, but at least he was trying to sympathize with her. It was sweet, actually, that he wanted her to be comfortable. She walked into his house, eager to see what it looked like. Her mother used to tell her there was a lot you could learn about a person by their house, the possessions they have and how organized it is. And Jace's house...was not what she was expecting. The walls were bare, like he had implied. But so was just about everything else. It was all neat and trim, and it looked a lot more like a display in a store than an actual apartment. There weren't any personal items, from what she could tell. Sure, it was furnished, and that in itself looked nice, but there was none of that cozy, homey feel to it. It just looked empty.

"How long have you lived her, Jace?" she asked, almost horrified. As an artist, she hated for anything to be so bare...so boring. Where was the creativity? The personality? Did Jace really call this place home?

"Since I came to New York about a year ago."

Clary frowned, "Well, no one's going to believe that this is a freshly engaged couple's home if they walk in here. Don't you have any personal belongings? Posters? Comfy rugs or... I don't know? Even like a book shelf or something?"

Jace frowned, "There's a book shelf in my room, actually," he almost sounded offended, "I'm a literature teacher, you know. I enjoy to read."

For a moment, Clary was caught of guard, "Really?" she never would have guessed, but then he shook her head, "That doesn't matter. A book shelf isn't enough and it's not in the living room, where most people would go. Never mind my earlier question, while you're gone I'm going to make your house much cozier."

Jace frowned, "I hope that doesn't mean floral patterns and fruit bowls."

"God, you are _such_ a guy," she punched his shoulder.

He stared at her hand, watching the movement with a frown, "Please tell me that wasn't meant to hurt. This is New York, Clary, you need to be able to punch harder than that. Maybe we should sign you up for self defense classes."

Clary rolled her eyes, "I'll be fine, Jace. I think we're getting a little too far ahead of ourselves," she tried to think. She, too, as getting too far ahead. Right now she just needed to focus on what needed to be done tonight, "Okay. So where am I sleeping?"

"In my bedroom."

"Jace, we're not sharing a bed."

Once again, he looked offended, "I wasn't expecting you to, Clary. I'm sleeping on the couch, you're sleeping in my bedroom. Like I said, I want you to be comfortable," and with that, he went and placed her suitcase in the bedroom off the the side, "Now," he said, "What would you like for dinner."

"I don't care, I'll eat anything," she said, going over to sit on the couch.

She took off her backpack, staring at it for a moment. One of the straps had ripped at the bottom, and so she could only use one side to hold it. She had the backpack since she was about eight, having used it for almost everything—sleepovers, traveling, school, art supplies... It was comfortable to have something so familiar in such a strange city, it actually made her smile genuinely for the first time since she arrived. She gently flicked at one of the many pins on it, mostly from Disneyland.

"That's never a good sign," Jace's voice broke her reverie. She sighed, wishing she could hold on to that moment of contentedness she had felt while reliving her memories. She whirled around to face him.

"Would you prefer I don't eat anything, then?"

Jace shrugged, "All I'm saying is that it's easier to gain weight than lose it."

Clary groaned, "I don't care, Jace!" she snapped, "Make something or don't," she pulled out her sketch pad, flipping through the drawings to a clear page. She wanted to find comfort in her drawings like she always did, but she needed something to draw. There were so many things she could draw from what she had seen today... but no. She didn't want to remind herself of where she was, she was too homesick. So, instead, she drew her old best friend, Simon. He would probably laugh once she told him what situation she was in. He would probably say something ridiculous, too, something that she might roll her eyes at but it would still make her laugh and whatever had been bothering her would have seemed less important. She missed Simon...

"Who's that?" Jace asked from above her, making her jump. She looked up from the couch and frowned, "Dinner's ready," he said, then nodded at the paper,"Who are you drawing?"

"My best friend," she said, setting down the sketch pad and pencil on the coffee table, leaving it open to the page. Normally, she would have shut it instantly but Jace already saw it, there was no point in hiding it now. But if he even tried to look through any more of her pictures, she would bite his arms off.

"Your best friend is a vampire?" Jace asked through a small smirked as he stared thoughtfully down at the paper. She noticed with great relief that he didn't touch it. The thing she hated most when showing her art to others is that they would always touch it, smear it, mess up the shadings she had worked so, so hard on.

"No, but he would think it's funny that I'm drawing him as one."

"It's very good," Jace admitted, golden eyes flickering up to meet hers. Once again, Clary was caught of guard by how attractive this boy was. He was all light, with wild golden eyes and bright, tousled blonde hair. He had a broad, muscled build, but it was still desirable (the kind that was strong, but not overly so) and his skin was tan enough to put her average complexion to shame, though she had worked hard to even get it to that point. Once again, she would love to draw him.

"Thanks," Clary said with a small smile. It wasn't anything she hadn't heard before, but something about his praise made her feel special, as if she were sharing a secret meant only for the two of them. Jace didn't seem like the type of guy to give out compliments unless he meant them. Maybe that was why she felt proud to earn his approval. No, that must be it. She wouldn't care if it were any other way.

"Thanks, Jace," she found herself repeating as she walked over to the kitchen.

**Eh... they won't all be so wishy washy and uneventful like this chapter was, I was just a little to rushed to post today. So... sorry. Tomorrow will be better since there's no soccer practice. Tell me what you think. **


	3. Shop with Me?

**Heya guys :) Chapter three! The feedback is amazing guys and you have no idea I get this big grin on my face everytime I get that little alert email. Also in the last chapter i double posted it when I uploaded it and that's fixed now, so sorry about that. :)**

**Here you all are!**

**(no disclaimer since I think I've made my point in the first two chapters and unless anything changes it's not necessary)**

Clary woke up the next day feeling like crap. She hadn't slept at all, too restless in the unfamiliar home. Too uncomfortable and unhappy with the situation she was forced in. To hurt by how betrayed she felt. So when she heard Jace in the other room, walking around in the kitchen, she gave up on sleep.

Jace looked up in surprise when she walked into the kitchen. He had a coffee mug gripped in his hand, she noticed, eyes still not fully alert and his hair mussed. He was so tall, she couldn't imagine that it would be comfortable to sleep on that small couch in his living room. But mostly, she noticed that he was only in his boxers, and he had a very attractive upper body.

"I'm sorry," he said, tearing her eyes away from his chest. From what she could tell, he hadn't noticed the stare, still too groggy from sleep, "I was hoping I wouldn't wake you up so that you could sleep in," there was no arrogant smirk on his face, no teasing her for seeing him half naked, or wanting more. No taunts like she would expect from him. She really, really liked sleepy Jace.

"It's fine," she grumbled, brushing past him as she opened the cabinets, "I was up already, anyway," she searched until she found the right one, taking not of it, before she picked out a snowman-shaped mug. He smiled when she saw it, but she ignored him.

She had decided at some point during the night that Sebastian wasn't the only one who should shoulder the blame of putting her into this situation, so she was going to be mad at Jace, too. Granted, she always had the option to go home, but she wasn't calling that an option anymore. She was calling that quitting, and Clary didn't have the intention of quitting, even if that meant she had to live with Jace. Besides, its not like she had to like him, or be nice to him, she just had to pretend she loved him in front of other people.

"Are you okay?" he asked, beginning to sense her sour mood. Maybe he was beginning to wake up more. Or maybe she was just getting angrier and angrier by the second.

"I'm fine," she snapped, reaching behind him for the coffee. She drank it just like that, black. _Like my soul_, she mused. It was something she used to say to Simon when they went to Java Jones together. The reminder once again, made her heart ache.

Would it be so bad if she went back? _No_, she thought, _This is what you wanted. You wanted to get out of there and now you have. _

Jace whistled, "You're cranky in the morning, Claire Bear," he mumbled, ruffling her bedhead as he downed his coffee, "I'm going to go get dressed," and he walked off into the other room, leaving Clary glaring after him.

"Okay," Jace said after he emerged, dressed in the same suit she had seen him in the other day. Sebastian had told her he's required to wear it to work. It must be a pretty strict school, then. All girls... she couldn't imagine. They probably all loved Jace, too. He couldn't be much older than she was and she had a feeling all ages found him attractive, "Time to make my lunch."

Clary had settled herself on the counter, thinking, but now here eyes were on him as he made a sandwich. She knew she had decided she was going to treat him badly...but she couldn't help herself from wondering.

"Jace?"

He didn't look up from what he was doing, "Yes?"

"I never got to ask that third question last night."

She could see Jace' s lips turn down, now he did look up, "Okay. Any questions in mind, then?"

It was one she had already asked, but hadn't been answered, "Why this school? I mean...there are so many schools out there, right? Why pick this one? Why lie in your interview at all?"

Jace went quiet. Clary watched him carefully, trying to gauge his expression, but it was hidden. It was like looking at a wall. She couldn't tell if he was lost in thought, or if he was just stalling himself from answering, but the silence was making her uncomfortable.

"Jace?"

He met her eyes and opened his mouth, like he was about to say something. Then her phone rang. She frowned, pulling it out of her pajama pocket. _Sebastian_ flashed across the screen.

"Aren't you going to answer that?"

"No," she said, hitting the end button. Hopefully, Sebastian would get the hint.

Jace snatched her phone out of her hands, golden eyes running over the screen before he began typing something in.

"What are you doing?" Clary asked.

"Adding my phone number," he responded, handing it back to her, "Don't call me in the middle of class if it's not important.

Clary tucked her phone into her pocket, wishing she were better at thinking of witty, snappy comments that she could use.

Jace finished up his lunch. He grabbed a satchel he had leaning against a stool and waved at her, "Later babe," he called, "Have fun," and shut the door.

She stared after it for a moment. What now? It was early... Would Simon be up? She thought of her friend and shook her head. No, probably not. He liked to sleep in because he stayed up so late at night. Like a vampire.

With a sigh, she wandered around the apartment, opening drawers and things, taking note of where everything was. Anything she could use to waste time. She made herself another cup of coffee and changed before she decided to head out and look for somethings for Jace' s apartment, or art supplies. On her phone, she looked up places within walking distance she could check out.

The other day her brother had given her _way_ too much money for what he had asked for. Clary had intended to give it back to him, but then he came home late and she fell asleep. It was still in her pocket, which she was now retrieving. _Pay back time, right Seb? _Petty, yes, but she was broke and angry. So with a small glance back at the apartment, she walked out, hoping she wouldn't get lost on her way to the store.

"Excuse me, Ma'am?" people brushed by her, "Sir?" no reply. People were either rude, or deaf. She didn't care, she just wanted someone to stop and give her directions. If she wanted, she could turn around and go back to the apartment complex since she could still see it, but she didn't want to give up, and she didn't know what she would do there if she did.

"Do you need something?" a middle-aged man stopped in front of her. She gazed up at him and smiled. Finally.

"I need directions to the Alicante Shopping Mall?"

"Oh, that's close by," that's what her phone said, but she had started to worry it had lied to her. "Actually, that's on my way. Would you like me to walk with you? I work at the high school nearby, Idris. I'm on my way there now."

Clary checked the time. Wasn't it a little late to go in? "Could you? Thank you so much."

She began walking beside the man, "So are you a teacher at Idris?" was that the high school Jace worked at? She couldn't remember, but now she was going to be a little bit more cautious about what she said, just in case.

"Actually, I'm the principle there. I'm not required to go in today, but I've been working so long sometimes it's hard to kick the habit. Do you understand what I mean?" Clary opened her mouth to reply, but the man shook his head, "That couldn't be. You're young, you must have many more things to do than an old man like me."

Clary smiled pleasantly, "I'm sure you could pick of a hobby, if you looked for something."

The old man looked down at Clary and nodded, "I'm sure I could, but I'm married to the school. I think it will always be my hobby. Do you have one?"

"Yes sir," she grinned, "I'm an artist."

"How wonderful!" the man replied, "Art is an amazing thing. You look as if you would be an artist," they came to a stop outside a large, wide building with a big parking lot at the other side, "Here you are. Enjoy yourself," then the man began walking once again, without a word.

"This isn't funny Simon," Clary snapped, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder while she tied her hair up into a bun. She had actually ended up getting a lot more things than expected (which had been hard to lug home but she had managed).

"It's so funny, I don't even believe you.. It sounds like something you'd see in a movie, Clary, not in real life. Especially not to someone like you."

Clary made a face at that insult as she laid down a brown, slightly fluffy rug, "Gee, thanks," she grumbled, "I'm glad you feel that way, Simon."

"Oh, come on Clary. Is this how you imagined your life in New York?"

"Of course not!" she said exclaimed, taking a step back to view how the rug looked. Nice. She walked back over to the counter and withdrew one of the picture frames she had gotten, setting it on the coffee table. She was going to find a nice picture of Jace's and put it in, "But it's not like I had a choice!"

"There's always a choice, Clary."

She scoffed, "What? Like come home? No way!"

"Why come home at all? You could always look for a job and a place to live while you pretend to love this guy."

"That's the point, Simon," she went through her sketchbook until she found a drawing she liked, taking a pin and placing it on the wall of the entryway. The picture was of a fallen angel, the feathers on his wings beginning to shed and wither.

"But, Clary, leave as soon as you get one."

She sighed, running her hand over her face, "I don't know, Simon...I can understand quitting now and leaving home...but does that qualify as leading him on if I only stay until I find another place to live in New York?"

"So?"

"I don't think he deserves that. He may be a jerk. And trust me," she went back to her suitcase, pulling out the plastic sheet which carefully contained her favorite paintings. She didn't have a frame for them, so she pinned them up for right now with the intention of getting a frame later. The paintings were attractive abstract art that she felt added a nice splash of color against Jace's bare walls, "He's a huge jerk. But...there's something about this job that means a lot to him," she thought about his face after asking that question, "I don't know... it just feels wrong to use him as a place to stay after promising I'd do this."

"So now you want to do this, Fray?"

"No!" Clary groaned, "No, that's _not _what I meant. But come on...even if I'm furious, I still have morals."

"I have never seen evidence of that being true."

"Oh, _shut up_," she laughed, and she realized while briefly talking to Simon that she had cheered up a lot, and that sour mood she had been in this morning and most of last night had vanished, "Simon? Thanks," she didn't need to specify, he knew what he did.

"Any time, Fray. Any time."

"How's Maia?"

For a moment, he was quiet, and that made Clary nervous, "It didn't work out with her, Clary," he said in a soft voice, and she could tell that he was upset about it.

"Aw, don't worry Simon. That girl you're looking for will come along. Just wait, you'll see."

"Isn't that what Luke told you in seventh grade when you were upset everyone was taller than you?"

"_Shut up!" _she snapped through a scowl that he couldn't see, but her heart lightened just a little bit. This was what she needed. Simon knew just how to cheer her up, always, and now this situation to her seemed just a little bit more bearable.

On the other side of the phone, Simon started laughing, "Sorry, Fray. You make it easy."

"Okay, well, Jace will be home soon so I might as well be going. Bye Simon, I'll call you tomorrow."

"Alright, bye Clary. Bye the way, I've almost defeated the Lich King at 5% buff."

Clary laughed, "Nerd," she said, before hitting the end button.

Almost simultaneously, Jace walked through the front door.

"Were you talking to someone?" he asked through a frown.

Clary tucked her phone into her pocket and nodded, "Yeah, I was talking to Simon.. How was— what is that?"

He was holding something in his hand behind the doorway, and when he pulled it inside she saw what it was. A canvas. She had wanted to get one while she was at the store, but she didn't think she would be able to carry it home.

"I got you a present, I guess," he looked uncomfortable as she walked over with a grin.

"Thank you!" she was pleasantly surprised, "Really. That was very nice of you."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," he stepped inside the apartment, shutting the door behind him. His eyes surveyed the room, "I like the paintings," he commented, walking over to one of them, "Did you paint this?"

Clary beamed, "Yep!" she wasn't usually too proud of her work, but she had brought the ones she thoroughly enjoyed, and so it always made her excited when others like it too.

"I like it. Sebastian never told me you're an artist, though I don't understand why. You're very good," she blushed, averting her eyes. Now that praise was starting to feel a little too over the top.

"Thanks."

"I'm going to go take a shower, alright?" Clary just nodded and watched him put his stuff down before retreating into the bathroom. She walked over to turn on the TV, messing with it until she found a channel she liked.

That was when the doorbell rang. She frowned curiously, standing up. For a second, she hesitated. It was so engrained in never to open the door of someone's home, but Jace was in the shower. With a sigh, she told herself that she sort of kind of lived here now, and opened the door, smiling, "Hello there..." she saw who it was and her eyes widened in surprise, "Mr. Pangborn?"

**Yet another chapter :D I'll try to update tomorrow, too. Once again thank you all so much!**

**(PS: to Mypettaylor1 I thouroughly enjoyed your review and I'm glad you pointed that out to me...I'm going to try to emphasize a little bit more how Clary doesn't enjoy the situation she has been put in) **


	4. Cook with Me?

**This is a little delayed and I'm sorry about that. Sometimes it's hard to work in all the writing with everything going on but here it is. **

**The video game I had been talking about has been identified as "My Forged Wedding" and I've had one or two people I've "stolen the plot line" or it's "exactly the same" and I must say that this really ticked me off, mostly because I barely even remember the game! The main parts I remembered and those I incorporated into the plot because that's what its ****_based _****on. And yes it would probably sound similar since this is still the exposition of the story where the situation is introduced. I do NOT like to be accused of plagerism especially since I wrote it in the DISCLAIMER. Anyways... I actually looked up this game and its plotline (because, once again, I don't remember it) and now I'm going to make sure to avoid it as much as possible. (Also, on another sidenote: I spend a lot of my time and effort writing this story. I am a very busy person, believe it or not, but I have worked hard to keep these chapters going as frequently as possible. Please respect that)**

**Anyways, the rest of the feedback is amazing and I really love what I'm hearing guys! Sorry I didn't update yesterday I just couldn't fit it in. Expect updates this weekend, though :) Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: The characters belong to Cassandra Clair and the video game the plot is based on is "My Forged Wedding". Take note. No more disclaimers after this. **

* * *

"May I come in?"

"Um.. Of course," Clary stepped aside, chewing on her lip, "Jace is taking a shower. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I need to speak with your husband," he said, looking agitated as his finger twisted together.

Clary shifted nervously. That didn't sound very good. She shut the door once he was inside, trying to think of what her mother would do in this situation, "you're welcome to a seat," she said, trying to be warm and wife-like. I need to be comfortable, she thought, as if this is my home as much as it is Jace's, "can I get you something to drink?"

"Just water would be fine, thank you."

Clary nodded, walking into the kitchen in what she hopped was a confident manner. Only problem? She couldn't remember which cabinet had the cups. She needed to look like she lived here and opening the wrong cabinet wouldn't look to good. She snuck a glance over at the vice principle, who looked tense. His eyes were on her, and the second they met he smiled. She couldn't tell if it was genuine or not.

"Make yourself at home," she said warmly, before turning back. She had done this earlier...

She opened the one she thought looked familiar and was met with plates and bowls. Her face flushed as she glanced at Mr. Pangborn again and saw him arch an eyebrow.

"Jace keeps moving around plates and things," she tried to lie as smoothly as Jace had the other night, but it came out sounding awkward. Wasn't she the housewife? She opened the next cabinet and smile, "here we are.

She walked back carefully with a glass full of water. The last thing she wanted to trip and spill it, "here you are," she glanced at the bathroom, "why don't I go get Jace?"

"That's not neces—"

"It's fine," the thought of being alone with Mr. Pangborn any longer made her nervous. She knew she would slip up, "just wait here one second," quickly, she walked over to the bathroom. Outside the door, she paused, tempted to knock. Would newlyweds knock? Her cheeks flushed as she realized they wouldn't and she hoped that Jace wasn't naked on the other side.

Jace looked up in surprise when she walked in an quickly shut the door. He stood in a pair of jeans, ruffling a towel in his hands, "Clary? What are you doing?"

She tried to avert her eyes away from his bear chest, like she had this morning.

"Wanted to see if you could catch me naked, did you? You should be a little more subtle about it, clary. And you just missed it, by the way," he was grinning at her but when he saw the look on her face, it faded. He set the towel down, "what's wrong?"

"Mr. Pangborn is in the other room," she said softly, "he wants to speak with you."

Jace didn't look the least bit worried. He laughed and threw the towel over her head, "don't worry. He probably just wanted to see if we were faking it or not the other day."

She thought of the look on Mr. Pangborn's face when she opened the door. She wasn't so sure. With a groan, she pulled the towel of her head, whacking Jace with it. He laughed as he grabbed his shirt, pulling it on with ease, "Let's go."

They walked back out into the living room. Jace greeted Mr. Pangborn with a charming smile, "hello, sir. Is there something I could help you with."

Mr. Pangborn's eyes flickered up to Jace's, "Jonathan. Sit. I need to talk with you," his eyes landed on Clary, "Perhaps alone."

Jace's grip on her hand tightened. Clary frowned, glancing up at Jace's face, trying to read it. It had grown serious. Jace sat down on the couch, pulling Clary into his lap. She tried not to look as surprised as she felt, "whatever needs to be said can be said in front of Clary."

"Are you sure of that, Mr. Wayland?"

For a moment, Clary just watched Jace's face. He was hesitant of an answer, tense. It was the first time she had seen the confident Jace unsure of something. Then he sighed, "Clary," he whispered into her ear, "why don't you step out into the next room?"

Clary frowned, but nodded. She gave his hand a squeeze, not for show but because she was worried. What was going on? She panicked. Had Jace lost his job? Did they find out he didn't really have a fiancé? With one last glance at the two men, she walked into Jace's bedroom. The second she left, she heard the soft hush of a whisper, filled with words she couldn't make out. What did she do now? For a while, all she did was pace, hoping that nothing awful had happened. She recalled something he had said the other day, about a book shelf, and curiously walked over to it. What kind of books did this mysterious Jace read? Her fingers traced the spines gently, "a lot of this is very old literature..." She whispered to herself, pulling out A Tale of Two Cities. It was only then that the weight of how little she knew about Jace hit her, now pulled fully into perspective. She had a feeling there was a lot more sides to him than he was letting on. She never would have guessed this would be the kind of books he was interested, "is this piano music?" She whispered in astonishment as she pulled out a music book.

Distantly, she heard the front door shut. Clary sat up, frowning, before she walked back out. Jace sat on the couch, looking tense and more than a little pale. A paper was crushed tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white. The TV had been turned off. Clary walked closer, wearily, but Jace remained silent, hardly acknowledging her.

"Jace?" She said softly, "is everything okay?"

He seemed to snap out of whatever had been keeping him quiet. His eyes met hers. The first thing she thought was that he looked really tired, the kind of expression you would expect from a person who had endured too many of the horrible aspects of life. Just tired, "I'm fine," he stood up, tucking the crumple paper into his pocket.

"What did Mr. Pangborn need to talk about?"

Silence.

"Jace?"

"Hmm? Oh. Don't worry about it, it wasn't anything important," he offered her one of those crooked smiles, but she saw past it. She wanted to say something, but was once again struck by how little she knew about him. Not nearly enough to say anything that would be worthwhile to him. So she just kept her distance. He probably needed space.

"What would you like for dinner?" She asked, walking into the kitchen. She thought of that paper he had in his hands. What was it?

"Don't worry about dinner," Jace said, shaking his head as if he were trying to clear his thoughts away, "I can handle it."

Clary threw her hands up in surrender, "Fine, you do it."

"Wait," Jace called before she could walk out of the kitchen, "Why don't we both do it?"

Clary stopped, turning to face him. Did she want to? She had decided last night she was going to treat him the same way she was treating Sebastian, but she hadn't been following through on that decision so far. She wanted to, still, but she was reluctant after seeing what Jace looked like after Mr. Pangborn left. Whatever they had talked about, it hadn't been nothing.

Jace has his own stuff going on, as well. Her mind when back to Jace avoiding answering the question that morning. After the strange meeting tonight, she was sure that now it wasn't just to pick up hot school girls. She was going to need to do her research on this man, she thought. He was nothing but a stranger.

"We might as well. I don't have anything better to do. Besides, I think it's time we got to know some of the little things about each other, don't you?"

Jace looked skeptical, "I've heard that line before, and it usually comes right before a cliche, chick flick moment.

"I was picturing something more like twenty questions. Chick flicks are gross."

Jace nodded thoughtfully as he got out ingredients, "twenty questions doesn't sound so hard."

"Here, we can start with easy questions first. Favorite color?"

"Red," he answered, before turning his eyes to her expectantly.

"I don't really have one," Clary admitted, "it changes day to day, depending what I'm drawing and what my mood is...and just what looks nice."

She watched him lay out some ingredients, "we're making mu shu pork. It's my favorite food."

"Doesn't that take a while?"

"I've made it before. It will be quicker with you to help."

He handed her a couple ingredients and asked her to stir them together in a bowl while he work on putting mushrooms in some hot water.

"So... What's your favorite animal?" I asked as I added pork into the mixture like instructed, tossing it around in the bowel so it got covered in the sauce.

"Definitely not ducks. I hate ducks," he took the bowl she had and placed it in the fridge, instructing her to take it out in half an hour.

"Why do you hate ducks?" She asked, perplexed, as he handed her a plate and some vegetables. She notched that he was giving her the easy tasks as she finished and watched him as he coated a pan with peanut oil, pouring in two eggs that he had beat.

"I don't know," he responded, lifting the pan, twisting it around with the skill of someone who has done it a hundred times over, "I just always have. They're kind if evil."

"I think they're cute..." Clary said softly.

Jace made a face, "I bet people think you're cute," he flipped the egg onto a plate, letting it cool for a moment before he began cutting it into strips. After that, he uncovered the mushrooms, beginning to slice those up as well.

"Well...what about your siblings? I only have Sebastian."

"You've met Alec already. I have a younger sister, too, Isabelle. She's your age."

"What's she like?" I asked curiously.

"Not as sullen as Alec, that's for sure. In a lot of ways, she's like me. Outgoing, flirty, deadly attractive."

"Obnoxiously conceited," Clary contributed with a grin, taking out the pork, "How long have you been making this recipe?"

"Since I was about ten," he responded, looking thoughtful. He tossed in some garlic, ginger, and stir fry, which automatically filled the air with its delicious aroma, the kind you would find after walking into a good restaurant. He took the pork and added it in, as well, "Mayrse taught me how to make it, after I begged her and begged her. She had to learn the recipe with me, though, because she hadn't known it, either."

"Mayrse?"

"Al—my mother," he smiled like he hadn't cut himself off, so Clary wondered if he had just been about to say something different before she asked the question. He grinned, suddenly, pulling out tortilla looking objects and scooping the contents of the pan into them.

"What's she like?" Clary asked. He did the same thing to a couple other tortilla like...things.

"She was strict," he smiled to himself a little, making Clary realize he was beginning to cheer up from whatever had upset him, "but I made her that way. I was the biggest little rebel growing up. She used to get mad about everything... I was always the one that got in trouble, too, out of all of us. But she loved me... Actually, she was kind of like you."

Clary wasn't certain if she should be offended or not, "I remind you of your mother?"

"well, you always get mad at me... But no. My mother could hold her temper better than you. And she didn't fancy arguing as much as you do. I don't think anyone does."

Clary scowled, "well, I've never met anyone who was as conceited as you, Jace."

"I already know that, Clary. My personality is one that is unrivaled, though many try hard to," he handed her a plate, "here. Eat. You need it."

Clary took the plate, "why did you talk about your mom like that?"

"Like what?"

"In the past tense. As if she isn't alive anymore... Is she?"

Jace paused, "she is. Alive, I mean. I just haven't spoken to her in a while."

"And your father?"

"Robert was distant most of our childhood. He cheated on Mayrse and they got divorced a little while later."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Jace's lips twitched with disdain. He looked like he wanted to say something...

"What?"

"Nothing. I just hate it when people do that."

"Do what?" Clary asked defensively, crossing her arms.

"Apologize for something that isn't their fault."

She rolled her eyes. She had nearly forgotten how much of a jerk he could be, "Right, because for anyone to show you any type of sympathy must be awful. Because your perfect, right? Nothing bad ever happens to you?"

Jace blinked, "Where did that bitter tone come from?" He asked, clearly surprised.

Clary just shook her head, "No. Honestly, Jace, I've only known you for what? Two days? I've tried to have civil conversations with you, I've tried to get to know you, and every single time you've thrown it back at me with some arrogant, rude comment!"

Jace's eyes were wide when she looked over at him, his mouth slightly open with surprise. Finally, finally, he didn't have something to say back. She relished in the moment for a few seconds before guilt set in, churning in her stomach. Silence settled upon them, do thick and heavy she felt as if it were suffocating her. He kept that astounded, slack-jawed look on his face.

Clary chewed nervously on her lip, "Jace... I—"

"No," he said, at last, regaining composure. He swallowed thickly, a movement echoed by his Adam's apple. He thrummed his fingers against the table as he shook his head, "no. You're right. You're right... I have been acting like an asshole. And I'm sorry."

Clary wasn't sure how to react. She felt bad, but she couldn't help herself from repeating, incredulously so, "you're sorry?"

Jace sighed, rubbing uncomfortably at the back of his neck. Clary had a feeling this wasn't something he did often. She tried to remember that, "Yes. I am. If it wasn't for you...I don't know what I would have done. And I know this wasn't something you wanted, either. So I'm sorry I'm making this so hard for you."

Clary was quiet for a moment, pursing her lips as she mulled over his apology. She didn't know what to say to him, "Thank you for apologizing."

Clary didn't know what she expected after that, but it wasn't for Jace to start chuckling to himself, quietly, as if there were a joke only he knew about, "You're stubborn, Clary. You know that?"

She shrugged, but now there was a ghost of a smile on her face, one she was trying hard to hide. Jace just grinned, golden eyes bright, fascinated, as he watched Clary.

* * *

**I apologize for any spelling, grammatical, or language usage errors. I just didn't have the time to edit like I usually do. **


	5. Paint with Me?

**Sorry for the late update guys. I was having some computer problems, so a vast majority of this was actually written on my phone (which means it is highly probable autocorrect ruined some sentances). Anyways, I got my computer working well enough to post this today (since I can't upload through mobile...they should fix that) :) hope you enjoy it! Once again, sorry for the late update. **

Clary awoke the next day feeling much better. She had actually slept in later than she normally did, and she (thankfully) wasn't up all night. She smiled a little before she climbed out of bed, not bothering to change because Jace would be at work. Distantly, Clary wondered how he had gotten his clothes without waking her up, but after seeing how graceful and deft that Jace was, she assumed it couldn't have been too hard for him.

She walked out with that smile still on her face until she saw Jace standing in the kitchen, still in his boxers, making pancakes. He looked up at her arrival and smirked, "I was beginning to think you had gone into hibernation."

"What are you doing here?" She asked, stopping in the entryway to the small kitchen, between the bar and the wall. It was an open kitchen, one that led out to the living room

"What do you mean?"

"Why aren't you at work?" She sat down at the bar, watching him continue to make breakfast.

Jace finished flipping another pancake onto the large stack before he stopped to look at her through a raised eyebrow, which Clary instantly envied. That patronizing smirk on his face never wavered, "It's a Saturday, Clary."

Clary's earlier smile had faded completely, "What?" She asked, hoping she had heard wrong. Did that mean she had to spend the day with Jace? The thought actually made her a little nervous.

Jace feigned hurt, "Your excitement is contagious," he handed her the stack of pancakes, switching off the stove, "Don't eat them all. I'm going to get dressed."

"I wasn't going to eat them all!" Clary called after him in slightly exaggerated outrage.

* * *

Clary was sitting on the couch later that day, a towel resting in her lap. She had taken a shower, but when she came out Jace was gone. She texted him, but he had yet to reply. She wasn't worried, though. Whoever tried to hurt Jace, from what she could tell, would be an idiot. She was just curious as to where he had gone. There were so many secretive things about him... She kept imagining his facial expression as he clutched that piece of paper in his hands...

The sound of the front door clicking closed drew her attention to the front door. Jace was standing there, dressed casually in jeans and and a t-shirt. It was the first time she had seen Jace not half naked or in his suit. It was actually kind of nice.

"Hey," she greeted, sitting up a little more, "Where'd you go?" Her eyes wavered curiously to the bags clutched in his hands.

"Out," he replied vaguely, setting the bags down on the table in front of her. She leaned forward, peering into them.

"Paint cans?" She frowned. It wasn't the type of paint she used for a canvas, but rather large tubs of paint, the kind used to paint a house. Also in the bag were a couple paint brushes(large ones) and rollers, "What exactly do you need these for?"

"I was thinking about what you said last night," Jace said carefully, eyeing her reaction as he plucked a paint brush from the bag, "and I decided this would be a good way to get to know each other."

Clary just stared at him, "You want us to _paint_ your house?" She asked for clarity.

Jace had that grin in his face again, "Precisely."

"Why?"

He shrugged, "Why not? You like to paint, right? And like I said, it's a good way to get to know each other. 20 questions, remember?"

Clary blinked, "Okay..." She said uncertainty, taking the paint cans out to look at the color he chose. When she saw it, she couldn't help how shocked she was, "Teal!? Jace, you want to paint your apartment _teal_?"

Jace frowned, "What's wrong with teal?" he asked defensively.

"I just..." She frowned as well, "It doesn't match your color scheme, first of all. And, well, don't you think it's a little bit..._girly_ for your apartment?"

Jace just grinned, "I think it might liven the place up. Besides, my furniture is pretty manly. I say it'd even it out."

She stared at what little furniture he had. It was all very modern―very black and white. She tried to imagine the white walls a teal color, instead, and just couldn't see it as the type of place where Jace would live, "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," He responded confidently, pulling out a plastic sheet to lay on the floor.

Clary got off the couch, which Jace then made a gesture at for her to push it away, leaving space for him to lay down the plastic, "I just want it noted that I warned you," she told him, remaining uncertain.

"Noted," Jace said as he poured the paint into a plastic tray, "Okay," he said, straightening up, "You start."

Clary didn't need to ask him to clarify. She grabbed a roller, glanced at him one last time to be sure, and dipped it in the paint. She began to roll the bluish-green color over the stained white wall as she thought of a question, "What's your favorite thing about New York?" _Start with the easy questions first..._ she thought.

Jace stood beside her, reaching further up than she could. He gave her a mocking smile as he did, "I like the people," he answered, then frowned, "No...not the people necessarily. I like how many people there are. How big it is.I mean, the people here have seen just about everything. I could probably run down Manhattan with antlers on my head and only a few people would stare... Not," he added, "that I ever had."

"So..." Clary stopped to glance up at him, "You like being invisible?"

"In a way, yes. I find security in the fact that I'm just one person, in a city of thousands, in a world of millions. Granted, I am a very special person," he grinned, "but on the grand scale of things, no one gives a damn about what I say or do. It's terrifying in the same way it's comforting."

"Huh," Clary murmured to herself, mulling over this new revelation about Jace. He was so full of himself, she never would have thought he liked not being so small.

"Why were you so desperate to get out of Florida?" Jace asked, using his turn in the wake of the silene that had followed.

"Well, I lived in Florida my entire life," she answered, "In the same small town. When I got out of college, I wanted to do something new... And it was New York; the land if possibilities. It's not like I knew what you and my brother were planning."

"But you stayed," Jace mused, "Even after you knew why you were really here, you stayed. Why?"

Clary had actually been wondering the same thing, so it took her a moment to answer, "Partly, I would have felt like a quitter if I just left. But... I think part of it is starting a new journey. I'm still not really okay with this... But who knows where it will bring me, right?"

Jace nodded thoughtfully.

"Have you always lived in New York?" Clary asked, standing on her toes to get the giant white spot that lingered above her head.

"No. I did when I was younger, but I only moved recently."

"Where from?"

"Isn't that two questions?"

Clary rolled her eyes, "Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't know we were taking this game seriously."

"Well, we are," Jace replied haughtily, "So it's my turn. Have you always been this short?"

Clary glared at him as he moved beside her, effortlessly reaching up to paint the section she couldn't reach. She took a step back to glare at him.

"I'm not that short!"

"You're very short."

"And you're irritating," she shot back, feeling a little childish as she crossed her arms.

Jace's eyebrows shot up, "I'm irritating? You're worse than I am. At least I'm not stubborn."

"I'm not stubborn!"

Jace chuckled, "Oh? I'm calmer than you are, too. I've never met someone with such a bad temper."

"Jerk," Clary said, taking one of the smaller paint brushes and swiping it across his cheek.

There was a tense moment where both of them were still, staring at each other. Jace's hand slowly came to his cheek, his fingers coming away wet and blue. His golden eyes flashed dangerously as they met hers, "You're going to regret that, Clary," he said in a low voice. Jace lunged for Clary just as she broke into a sprint, squealing as she did so. Jace ran after her. As he chased her into the kitchen she realized one of two things: first, he was way faster than her. Second, his apartment was too small. She ran behind the island, positioning it between herself and Jace.

Jace only smirked, "You're not going to win, Clary," he started walking around the counter, and so she did the same, echoing his movements. Clary was just waiting for the second she was close enough to the entryway... Jace jumped over the island, suddenly, but Clary had already made a b-line for the entryway and escaped before he could grab her. Once again, anywhere she went she would be easily cornered.

He chased her into the bedroom until she was stuck between a wall, Jace, and a bed.

"I'm sorry?" She tried, seeing no hope of finding a way out.

"Too late," Jace said, eyes glinting mischievously. She made one last feeble attempt at escape, trying to get over the bed. His arms were around her waist before she could even touch the sheets. She squealed as he threw her over his shoulder.

"Jace!" Clary squealed as she started hitting his back, "Put me down!"

"You were asking for it," he called, taking her back into the living room. He dipped his fingers into one of the paint trays before he flipped her onto the couch, pinning her down before she could move. She squirmed as Jace straddled her and pressed his fingers, gently so, to her cheek, smearing the paint onto her skin.

"Okay, we're even now!" Clary exclaimed as Jace placed his fingers above her lip, tracing it's outline. It would have almost felt intimate, if she had not known what he was really doing.

"There," Jace declared proudly, staring down at her teal mustache he had just created, then to the giant smear on her cheek. Despite his words, he still didn't get off of her.

Clary squirmed again, "Jace," she groaned, growing uncomfortable under his intent gaze.

"Hang on..." He pushed some of her hair out of her face, "Don't want that distracting red hair to be teal now, do we?"

"Jace..." Clary pushed pressed her hands against his shoulders, pushing him away, "What are you doing?"

He grinned at her suggestively, "There are some other good ways to get to know people, too..." he wiggled his eyebrows, providing Clary with a mental image she wasn't exactly sure how to react to.

Clary sat up, "Okay," she said awkwardly, "Well, I'd rather stick to this way."

Jace chuckled, getting off of both her and the couch in one fluid motion, "I'm only kidding, Clary."

Clary practically jumped off the couch the second she was free. She hadn't realized how short her breath had become until Jace had gotten off of her, or how fast her heart had started beating.

Jace's eyes scanned over her, "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Clary mumbled, "I'm fine," she walked back over to the wall and Jace followed suit, picking up the roller he had previously.

* * *

"You know," Jace mused, once they were done. Clary's hands and clothes were stained with paint, and the apartment stunk of it, but she had a smile on her face, "The teal doesn't look so bad."

Clary laughed, "So you agreed it would look stupid?"

"To an extent, yes," he admitted, eyes glimmering with humor.

"Then why do it?" Clary asked.

"To make you feel more comfortable around me."

Her grin faded, "What?"

Jace shifted, his fingers thrumming against his side. It was a nervous habit of his, she noticed. Since she had met him, Clary couldn't recall when Jace wasn't doing something with his hands.

She watched the movement until Jace tucked his hands into his pockets, drawing Clary's eyes back up to meet his. That humorous glint was gone. Now the beautiful gold was all serious. She watched him curiously as he tried to find words, "You look different when you draw," he said, finally, "happier, calmer...nicer," at the last part, he grinned, "and you get that way when you talk about art, too. I thought that if we did something like this together, you would feel a little bit more at ease."

Clary couldn't think of a way to reply. He was right, though. The only time she ever really felt content was in the safety of her own mind and creation, through a paint brush or pencil. And she realized another thing; Jace had made her feel, today, the same way Simon had made her feel after their phone call. Clary hadn't imagined Jace could do that... She was touched, actually, that he would notice something like that and then risk his apartment walls to make her feel more comfortable. It was kind of sweet, "Thanks, Jace," she said softly.

"One may also argue it is not often you get the chance to have an artist paint your house for free," Jace added in a condescending manner.

"Why teal, though?"

"I like the color teal," Jace replied defensively, that crooked grin sliding over his face once again.

And this time, Clary couldn't help but grin back.

**Ew. I feel like this isn't one of my better chapters. Sorry that it's shorter than usual. I'll make up for it next Tuesday (It will probably be short tomorrow, too, because of Soccer). Feedback is great :D thanks a ton guys!**


	6. Have a Coffee with Me?

**This is more of a teaser than anything else, but the feedback has been so awesome that I tried hard to get you guys something today. (I was almost not going to post anything because I got home way too late). **

**I know it's short, but I tried my best because I'm about to collapse from how tired I am. **

The smell of coffee is what roused Clary, two weeks later. She peeled her eyes open and groaned. Jace had been trying so hard not to wake her up, recently, but he had yet to accomplish it.

"Morning," she mumbled as she walked into the kitchen, red hair piled unattractively on top of her head.

Jace sighed, swearing under his breath. She bet it secretly bothered him he kept waking her up, since he was someone so used to his own grace and silence.

"Good morning," came his alert answer, golden eyes gliding over to her, covertly sliding over her legs—left bare from the boy shorts she slept in. Clary didn't notice.

Instead, she followed what had quickly became her daily routine of walking over to the coffee machine, which was already available for use since Jace had started it earlier. She pulled out two mugs.

"No sugar," Jace told her the second she pulled out the box of sugar-cubes. He claimed that he hated sugar in his coffee and he could always taste it, so Clary had begun to make a game of how many sugar cubes she could slip in before he started to notice. She managed two while his back was turned before she handed it to him.

"I know," and she did. It had been a long two weeks. Jace himself was still a mystery, but the two of them had managed to slip into sync. Thankfully, there weren't many times she had to play fake wife in front of others. The idea had recently started to leave a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, one she couldn't really place. She was telling herself that it was because she had grown comfortable around Jace, like a brother, so it was strange for her to pretend their relationship was anything more. But something about that explanation just didn't seem right...

Clary leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee absentmindedly, while Jace slipped away to get changed.

"Any plans today?" He asked as he walked back out, a tie lazily slung around his neck.

"Not really...besides possibly going back to bed. Why?"

Jace just smiled, "Because I made plans for you. You're going shopping with my sister, Isabelle, later today."

Clary was shocked, to say the least, "Isabelle?" She repeated, trying to recall what she knew about the girl. She didn't come up often in their conversations, though Jace had mentioned her before. She_ had_ noticed, however, that Jace tended to take on an affectionate tone of voice on the moments when he did speak of her. Clary thought it was cute.

"Yes, Isabelle," Jace replied calmly as he tied his tie, "She's taking you dress shopping."

"Dress shopping?" That didn't sound so bad._ Besides_, Clary reasoned,_ it would be a good way to get to know Jace's younger sister _(who was actually the same age as Clary), "What does she need a dress for?"

"She doesn't need a dress," Jace said, perplexing Clary for a moment before he met her eyes and elaborated, "_You_ need a dress."

Clary's eyebrows shot up, "What do_ I_ need a dress for?"

"Oh, did I forget to tell you?" Jace's voice remained casual as he took a step into the kitchen, beginning to make lunch for himself. Sometimes Clary felt bad that Jace did all of the cooking, but she wasn't that great of a cook. At least, not compared to Jace. She could handle the basics...but that was about it, "Idris is hosting a formal gathering for parents and students. I have been―and still am―encouraged to bring along my lovely wife," he grinned at her at the last part.

Clary wasn't quite as amused as Jace was, evident by the frown on her face, "When?"

"Later tonight," Jace responded. Seeing her facial expression, Jace sighed—both in exasperation and humor. He walked over, placing both his hands on her arms. She met his steady gaze with her own, "You're going to be fine, Clary," he told her in a low, soft voice, "Besides, you can finally stop hiding the fact that you're madly in love with me for a night."

"That's the part I'm dreading."

"There's no point, it's already glaringly obvious."

Clary rolled her eyes and nudged him away with her elbow, proceeding to take another sip of the warm beverage in her hands. Meanwhile, Jace glanced at the time and frowned.

"I need to go," he said as he gathered his things, "Meet Isabelle outside Alicante Mall in three hours. I wrote her number down on a sticky note," he nodded at the paper pasted to the fridge.

"Thanks mom," Clary teased, making Jace grin.

He downed the rest of his coffee before he grabbed his satchel and headed out. Clary waited for the sound of the door to click, but it didn't come. She turned and saw Jace pause in the doorway and turn back to her.

"Did you put sugar in my coffee?" He asked.

**I'm sorry about the length. It's basically a teaser... I just didn't have the energy or time when I ****_finally_**** got home. Anyways, hope you enjoy and tomorrow's will most definitely be longer.**

**(On the bright side, I was considering not uploading but I pushed myself because you guys deserved something :) )**


	7. Dance with Me?

**Whoo :D Sorry if towards the end it started to get a little rushed. I accounted for more time than I actually had. **

**A special thanks triplejjjones18 for giving me an idea used about halfway through the chapter. One again, the feedback has been awesome, guys. One of the highlights of my day is to get home and open up my email. Hope you enjoy!**

Through the crowds of people at Alicante mall, Clary struggled to find someone who could be Jace's sister. Her eyes searched for blonde, but she also had to keep in mind that Alec had black hair, and didn't very much resemble Jace the slightest.

Someone tapped on her back. She turned around and was met with dark brown eyes, so dark they were almost black. Her first reaction to the girl that must be Isabelle was that she was gorgeous. Her hair was the color of black ink, long and sleek. She was tall, too, and unfairly slim. And once again, she looked nothing like Jace—unless you counted that they were both stunningly attractive (seriously, that wasn't fair).

"Are you Isabelle?" Cary found herself asking. She received a captivating smile in turn, and Clary could suddenly see how Isabelle and Jace could be related, though the girl more obviously resembled Alec.

Isabelle's eyes swept over Clary diligently, in keen discernment, as if looking for something specific. This was yet another thing the three siblings had in common—they had a tendency to stare at Clary until she was shifting nervously in discomfort.

"That must mean you're Clary. You're exactly the way Jace described," her voice was flat.

Clary was partly horrified, "How did Jace describe me?" She could only imagine...

"Red hair, short, freckles. You're easy to spot in a crowd."

Her cheeks flamed, "Oh..."

Isabelle shrugged, eyes still set on Clary. She felt bare, suddenly, as if she had been stripped down under the weight if the other girl's gaze, "It's not necessarily a bad thing. I wish I were shorter. It's a drag being taller than most guys."

Clary opened her mouth to reply, to tell her that she was wrong and didn't understand the struggles of being so short, of seeing the world through a cluster of torsos and shoulders, but Isabelle had suddenly snatched her wrist.

"There's no time," she said through a smile, "We need to get you ready. Jace says you have to look beautiful, so I need as much time as I can get."

"Gee," Clary's voice was flat, "Thanks."

Isabelle didn't respond, either because she didn't catch the sarcasm dripping from Clary's voice, or because she _did_ and felt there was nothing else to add.

They went to a place called Dumort Dresses. Right away, Clary knew she was going to hate this shopping trip, from the moment she walked in and was met with the smell of various perfumes, so thick she had to fight the urge to cough. An overwhelming amount of dresses hung around the store, different colors, sizes, and designs. The employees stumbled around on unnecessarily high heels, faces plastered with make-up and perpetual, insincere smiles. Simon used to make fun of places like this. Isabelle, however, looked as if she had just arrived home after a long trip. She politely discouraged one of the brunette employees, who sported fake eyelashes, from helping the two while she stalked over to one of the racks. Clary trailed reluctantly behind her, still not over the perfume that clung to everything in the store.

"How formal did Jace say it was?" Isabelle murmured to herself, pulling out a smart phone encased in a glittery black case. She nodded to herself, as if she were having a silent conversation, before she got to work.

Clary had never seen anyone shop quite the way Isabelle did. She walked with the grace and confidence of a dancer reciting movements practiced rigorously, even on the heels she wore. She pulled out dress after dress, each looking about Clary's size and thousands of dollars out of her price range. Each one, she handed to Clary. It was only after Clary started to drop the dresses because she couldn't physically hold anymore that Isabelle sent her to the dressing room, earning a couple scowls from the otherwise preppy employees.

* * *

"No," Isabelle said for what seemed like the thousandth time, "It clashes badly with your hair."

Clary sighed. Isabelle had said the same thing about some of the dresses she had rather liked. Clary turned and stalked back into the dressing room.

"Red must be such an awful color to have...not that it isn't pretty," the last part was an afterthought comment, after Isabelle had probably realized what had she said was offensive, "It's just hard to find anything that works well with it..."

She trailed off as Clary walked back out in another dress, which fell loosely to her knees. She liked it because it wasn't so tight that she couldn't breath like some of the other dresses had, and it didn't show off her body so much she was too insecure to wear it. It was a fairly simply design, all white with a single strap that fell over the shoulder, the other left bare. It offered the illusion of boobs, thankfully, and hung around the right parts of her body to make it appear like she had a figure. It was the first time Clary had ever genuinely liked a dress, and Isabelle seemed to agree. She walked carefully around Clary, studying the dress.

"I like it," she murmured, voice distant in thought. Her hand tugged gently on the material around Clary's legs, where the dress began to ruffle—only slightly, not overly so where it would draw attention away from its simplicity, "It's rather simple..." Clary was amazed at the different opinions between Isabelle and herself. Isabelle had said it almost in disdain, as if that weren't a desirable trait, yet that was exactly what had made the dress appeal to Clary, "but Jace would like it."

Clary thought about the way Jace's apartment had looked when she first arrived and agreed with Isabelle. Jace liked things simple―or at least mundane things such as clothes and apartments.

"I like it," Clary said, stepping in line of the mirror. Clary never wore dresses or skirts, so the sight was almost unrecognizable. Her curly red hair tumbled over her shoulders, as always, and freckles decorated her cheeks and arms, but... Who was that girl with curves? With skin that almost looked tan? With boobs? The dress brought out features in Clary that were usually non-existent.

"I saw the perfect pair of heels, too," Isabelle smiled as she walked out of the dressing room, but Clary was still stunned by her reflection. Seconds later, Isabelle stepped back inside and placed the white high heels in front of Clary. She stepped into them and the world suddenly changed. It was only a couple inches, but suddenly the top of her head was even with the full length mirror. With these on, she could almost stand face to face with Jace...

Then she remembered the prices of the dresses. She tugged on the tag and almost choked, "We need to go find a new dress," she said in disappointment.

Isabelle frowned, "Why?" She asked through an arched eyebrow. She snatched the tag away, peering at it. Then, surprisingly enough, she laughed.

"What's so funny?" Clary asked, irritated.

"Clary, that's not expensive at all," she tapped one of the many bracelets that dangled from her wrist, "That dress costs about half of this baby."

"Wha-"

"Here, give the dress to me. I'll pay for it."

Clary went slack-jawed, but she did as the girl asked and changed back into her original clothes.

"Give me the heels, too," she did, though she felt a little guilty doing so. Clary watched Isabelle as she smiled mischievously and pulled a credit card from her purse, as if it were nothing. Jace had never led on to coming from a wealthy family...

"Be back in a second!" She chimed, walking out of the dressing room. Clary sighed, taking her time to put her shoes and socks back on before joining Isabelle at the cash register, who was currently being held a bag.

"Take these," Isabelle handed Clary the bags. She threaded her fingers around the handles as they walked out, "Now you're meant to take me back to your apartment so I can do your hair and makeup."

* * *

Later that evening, Clary walked up to the entrance of the school Jace taught at—Idris―alongside other adults and students dressed similar to herself. The only difference was, there wasn't a handsome Jace Wayland waiting at the entrance for them. He was leaning casually against the wall, hands tucked into his pockets, face blank and lost in thought. He straightened the second he saw her, eyes widening in surprise. Clary had the vague sense of deja vu, a memory of walking into prom when she was still in high school. Simon had been her prom date, then. This was different.

"She actually did it," he said in greeting as she got closer, eyes sliding over her. Clary stopped, eyebrows raised, wondering what exactly_ that_ meant. Isabelle had done very well, actually. It was one of the few times Clary felt pretty, or rather, pretty enough to grasp anybody's attention, "She got you into a dress, I mean. You're pretty stubborn, I was afraid you were going to show up in jeans and a t-shirt."

For a moment, Clary had to just stare at him before she realized he was kidding. His arm slid around her waist, suddenly. She was surprised, at first, tempted to push him away, but she remembered where they were and relaxed against him. They were in public, which meant she was his "wife".

"You look nice..." he murmured, "Beautiful even," Jace smiled again, but Clary couldn't tell if he was serious or not, "Oh, and I nearly forgot..."

His fingers slid between the spaces of hers, fitting perfectly, just like any other person's hand would. Clary had always marveled at that, how hands seemed as if they were almost made to hold each other, despite differences in size. She doubted, though, that anyone had hands felt quite as warm or as gentle as Jace's did.

"What did you forget?" She asked.

"This," he slid something out of his pocket and pulled her hand up to his mouth, gently kissing her fingers before he slid a ring onto it, "You're my fiancé, now. You need to wear your ring."

Clary smiled at the cute little gesture before she pulled her hand back and saw that it was real...real and beautiful, "Jace..."

His attention had wandered over the the people flooding inside, but at the sound of his name he snapped his eyes back to Clary, "What? Oh," he saw her facial expression and laughed, "Don't worry. I didn't buy it, it was the ring my father gave to my mother."

"Is she okay that I have it?"

"She wouldn't mind, no," his arm slid around her waist again, and he smiled, "Come on, let's go inside."

* * *

"Mr. Wayland, Mrs. Wayland, it's lovely seeing you again," Clary felt weird at being given Jace's last name, but she didn't feel as if someone madly in love with Jace would correct it, so she didn't. The one who spoke was Mr. Pangborn, but they were in a small little group of staff, all teachers she had never met.

"Not just yet," Jace said softly, drawing Clary's attention away from the angles of the new faces and over to him. He was grinning down at her in what any person would call an adoring look, if she didn't know better.

"Not quite," Clary agreed, looping her hand with Jace's, "but soon..." She gave everyone what she hoped was a dreamy smile. Was she doing this right?

"When's the wedding?" A female, with brown ringlets framing her face, asked.

Jace squeezed Clary's hand, his own silent way of telling her to let him do the talking, which she had no problem with. He was the better liar, after all.

"We haven't set a specific day yet," Jace answered, "My younger sister is insisting on organizing the whole thing, so she says we need to wait until she finishes this last year of school. It's getting harder to wait, though..."

"Mr. Wayland!" Someone called, a younger voice. Jace and Clary turned to see a group if young girls, students, waving Jace over. Jace nodded politely at everyone before he left, taking Clary with him, something with which she was grateful because Clary wasn't good at small talk.

Whispers ensued as the two approached the young group, most commonly,_ "Who's that girl with Mr. Wayland?"_

"Hello girls," Jace greeted, tugging Clary closer to his side. She noticed that some of the girls watched the move with envy. Clary had guessed that Jace would be popular among the students, but not exactly like this.

There came a courses of "Hi Mr. Wayland."

"This is my fiancé, Clary," he said to fill the space of silence, to which Clary smiled and waved.

"It's nice to meet you all," she murmured after trying and failing to think of an appropriate greeting, which had become harder after the girls started shooting her daggers.

"How long have you two been together?" Asked one girl, one of the smaller of the group. She looked more friendly than her peers.

"Two years," Jace answered with a smile on his face.

"How come I haven't seen her before?" The question was asked by another girl, through narrowed eyes directed mostly at Clary.

"I recently came back from visiting my mother," Clary responded. They had established standard questions like these a while ago, but the way the girls were staring at her was making her a little bit nervous.

After that, no one seemed to have anything else to say. Music started, quietly at first, before it grew louder. Couples, students and adults alike, began to wander over to the dance floor.

"Clary?" Jace asked, snapping her attention away from the far wall, where two people talked. She had just been admiring the way the light looked from the angle she was standing...

"Yeah?" She turned her head back to him and noticed his outstretched hand of the one that she wasn't holding.

Jace chuckled, "You get distracted easier than anyone I've ever met." Clary flushed as Jace led her over to the dancing area.

When they got there, he tugged her close, not seeming to realize how hesitant Clary had become, "Uh...Jace?"

"Yeah?"

The blush on her cheeks deepened, "I don't know how to dance."

He pulled away to meet her eyes, "What?"

"I can't dance. I don't know how."

Jace studied her for a moment, before he began to grin, "Then I'll teach you. It's not hard. Just look at me," he held her waist a little bit tighter as he began to step in rhythmic motions. She did her best to copy it, though it was clumsy at best, "See? It's not the bad."

Then a slow song came on. Jace leaned closer to her, "This part is very easy," he whispered, pulling Clary flush against him, though his grip was nothing but gentle, "Just wrap your hands around my neck," she had already been doing that, so she just adjusted it a little bit more, "Now rest your head on my shoulder and I'll do the rest of the work."

So Clary did just that, leaning against Jace as he swayed the two of them to the music.

"This feels a lot more like an extended hug," Clary mumbled into his shoulder. Not that she was complaining. She liked hugging Jace, he was comfortable and warm.

Jace chuckled. His eyes had been shut but he opened them to glance down at her, "In a way, that's sort of the point. Here.." He pulled away slightly and twirled her. She smiled as he pulled her back to his chest, then dipped her slightly. Their eyes met and he smiled at her, like it was a secret meant just for her. And in that moment, she felt special. But then Jace pulled her back to his chest and the normal music started up again.

His attention began to wander away from her, somewhere over Clary's shoulder. She frowned.

"Jace?"

"Yeah?" He cocked his head toward her, but only slightly. She could tell he was still watching something out of the corner of his eye, something that had most of his attention.

She tried to covertly arch her neck and follow his gaze. Jace was distracted enough not to notice when she didn't do very well. Her eyes fell upon one of the students, young and blond and beautiful, dancing with her friends. That's who had stolen Jace's attention.

**Sort of a cliffhanger. I was planning on going a bit further with this today, but then suddenly it was midnight. Thanks guys, I hope you liked it!**


	8. Discover with Me?

**Alright. So to begin I'm really sorry about not updating for so long after that cliffhanger. It wasn't to torture you guys or anything. I had actually hoped to update the day after so that I wouldn't leave you guys hanging in suspense. But then my friend came over that Friday and we ended up seeing a movie with a group of friends then spending the night on both Friday and Saturday. I've been working on this chapter through bits and pieces over those days, I just hadn't gotten enough length to even try to update. So I'm sorry. For those of you who have made fanfics before, you might understand the struggle, but to those of you who are just readers I want you to understand that I may love all to pieces, but I also have a life outside of fanfiction (a fairly busy life at that). Though, I will admit that (was it four or three days?) was much to long to wait after such an awful cliffhanger. And I'm sorry. **

**Anyways, I do hope you enjoy and don't kill me by the end of this. May post tomorrow, may not. It's a soccer night so I'll get home pretty late. **

Clary wasn't sure how to react at first. Jace had managed to calm all her nervous energy while dancing with her, had made her feel special and beautiful and genuinely happy. But she had to remember something: it was all pretend, a show put up for the people around them, so that he wouldn't lose his job. And she had began to fall for it, without even realizing it. This was Jace, the promiscuous womanizer. The narcissist. The boy who convinced Sebastian to lie to her, betray her, for his own selfish needs.

But no... This was Jace. The boy she had been living with for two and a half weeks. The boy who painted his walls teal so she would be more comfortable. The boy who let her sleep in his bed, who complimented her paintings and cooked her dinner. She couldn't hate him because she started to believe the pretense, a pretense she helped create. She couldn't be mad.

She just kept imagining Jace as he avoided the question. Why this school? Out of all the schools, why one you need to lie to teach at? If this was the reason, she didn't want to get in the way of that. If Jace kept staring at the girl the way he was, though, someone else probably would. Clary turned back into his embrace and nuzzled his neck to get his attention.

His golden eyes came back to her and he smiled, as if he hadn't just been ogling a high school student.

"Hey," he said softly, "Are you hungry? Or thirsty? I can go get you something to drink."

Clary nodded meekly, her eyes following the direction he was pointing over to the where the girl happened to be standing. Smooth, Jace.

"Sure, go ahead. I'll go sit down."

Jace frowned in concern, eyes sweeping over her, "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," Clary offered what she hoped was an encouraging smile, but it was rather pathetic, "I'm just a little tired and light headed."

He didn't look convinced, but nodded anyways and pulled away from her, releasing her hand to go get her a drink. She needed a little more time to mull over this new revelation about Jace, to decide how she felt about it. She was going to be a good friend and support Jace, right? That didn't necessarily explain the ache she suddenly felt. It's because I'm disappointed in him... She told herself.

Clary sat herself at an empty table, covered in white cloth with some type of plant centered in the middle. She watched Jace slide between the blonde girl's group of friends, who greeted him with big smiles. He began chatting with them—the blonde girl specifically—while he fixed Clary a plate of food from the tables they had set up. She wondered what he was saying...

Her view was suddenly obscured by a girl with black hair—like Isabelle's—that fell past her shoulders. Her eyes were curved and her cheekbones high, making Clary wonder if she were from Asian decent. She was pretty, or would have been if not for the scowl that currently decorated her face, or the eyes so narrowed it looked as if she were having trouble seeing something far away. And that angry look was directed straight at Clary. Nevertheless, she greeted the young girl—who couldn't be much older than fifteen—with a polite smile.

"Hey there," she said, "I'm–"

"I know who you are," the girl said haughtily, "but I don't believe it. You and Mr. Wayland couldn't be married. You–"

"Well, we're not. Not yet. Right now I'm only his fiancée."

Aline's eyes dropped disdainfully to the ring on her finger, "but it doesn't make sense. Why you? There are so many other girls in world who would make much better matches for Mr. Wayland. It's not fair."

Clary, quite frankly, was appalled by her behavior, and how rude she was. She blinked in astonishment, "Excuse me? I–"

"Aline," Jace's voice cut in from behind the young girl. Clary hadn't seen her approach but now she wondered how long he had been standing there. He walked around her to sit beside Clary placing the plate in front of her and taking her hand, "I see you met my fiancé."

It was interesting to see the sudden switch in Aline, who was batting her eyelashes and smiling sweetly, "Yes I did, Mr. Wayland," she stood up and looked at Clary, "and it was very nice talking to you," she smiled again, but there was a glint in her eyes that led on to what she really wanted to say.

Once Aline left, Clary turned to Jace, "Aline's..."

"I know," He offered her a wry smile, before it faded. Jace released her hand, placing it on her back in its stead, "Are you feeling any better?"

Clary resisted the urge to pull away, forcing herself to meet his eyes, "I'm fine."

"You're lying."

"So are you," the initial shock that lit Jace's eyes looked startled, before he frowned and merged his eyebrows.

"What do you..."

Clary nodded at the ring on her finger, though his reaction to the subtle comment was now ingrained in her mind.

Jace gave her that smirk of his, "Who says I'm lying?" He handed her a fork and nudged her gently with his shoulder, "Usually I can't get you to stop eating..."

Clary looked at the food on the plate, piled high with cookies and brownies and other baked goods you would find at places like this, "it's mostly sweet stuff."

"Isn't that what women prefer?"

Clary stuck her tongue out at him, "Are you trying to fatten me up or something?"

"You are rather scrawny..." He admitted, poking at her forearm. Clary batted it away and scowled, causing Jace to put both hands up in surrender, "I'm kidding," his eyes darkened seriously, "You're beautiful."

Clary tenderly picked up a cookie, "I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, but you won't get it."

Jace looked surprised, "I'm not trying to accomplish anything."

Clary shifted uncomfortably, but didn't say anything more. What was there to say? She wasn't the one who had captured Jace's attention so intently. And so the two of them sat quietly like that until a couple people came up to Jace to say goodbye. Clary took that for their cue to leave as well, for which she was grateful. Looking around, she realized most people where gone—the blonde girl included.

"Should we go, then, Clary?" Jace asked, standing up.

Clary nodded and stood up, eagerly so. Jace took her arm and gently led her away.

The walk home was silent, for the most part. Clary spent the majority of it in a reserves state of mind, admiring the rather ostentatious city lights.

"You have that look on your face," Jace commented.

Clary's attention snapped over to Jace, "What look?"

"That look you start to get when you paint. You look... Tranquil. What are you thinking about?"

Clary shrugged, "The city. What did you think of it when you first got here?"

Jace let out a hushed breath, eyes flickering up to the dark night sky. They sparkled in reflection of the incandescent city lights, looking deep and thoughtful, "It was bigger than I remembered. There's always something happening here, always. Everything you could possibly imagine. Put into perspective... Well, everything around us is so small. We're so small. During the day, there are people everywhere, and they don't give a damn about who you are or where you come from. Everyone here has a story, and you're just another person," Jace met her eyes, "and I love it."

"You love not being important?" Clary asked curiously, quietly.

"No," Jace answered, turning to fav her completely. He took a step closer, so that Clary could properly see the deep, brilliant gold of his eyes, "It's not like that, it's not that I'm not important. It's that I'm not anymore different than anyone else. Not to them."

"But you are different," Clary protested, being a person who embraced individuality and creativity.

Jace chuckled. His hand tenderly touched the side of her cheek, making Clary hold her breath, "Exactly. And there's so much diversity that it no longer matters," his hand left her cheek, lowering down to thread their fingers together, "there are so many things I want to show you..." He murmured.

Clary smiled at him and squeezed his hand, but she no longer felt like she believed him.

***

The next day, Clary began a rough sketch on another possible design for her canvas. She wanted this one to be perfect, because it was a special canvas–one of the first things Jace gave her, before he even really knew her. she had drawn so many different scenes, crumpled up so many drawings... Currently she was creating New York from last night, the way she had seen it and the way Jace had described it. And centered in it where the two of them, how she would have imagined they looked, so small and dull compared to the brilliant city lights, small but important.

Her phone chimed from the coffee table. Clary frowned and reached over to pick it up. It was an email, from Simon, which she opened. There was a link attached, and typed hastily under it (which she could tell because of the bad, text-language spelling that Simon usually avoided), it wrote "I need u 2 call me ASAP".

Clarg clicked on the link, which carried her to a sight that looked very... Governmental and serious.

Jonathan Michael Wayland.

Clary's eyes found the name instantly. She scrolled down and realized what she was looking at. Jace's birth certificate and a couple of other secretive looking papers that she felt odd looking at. She called Simon instantly.

"Simon, please tell me you didn't hack into Jace's file," she pleaded the second he answered. She didn't care about whatever he wanted to show her (even though she as admittedly a little curious), she just knew that this was Jace's business and life and it was wrong to even think about looking through it.

Simon snorted, "I hardly had to hack anything. That stuff only cost me ten dollars, the other guy did all the other work."

"Simon."

"I'm not kidding. But I have a good reason for this, Clary. A couple weeks ago when you started telling me about him, that you didn't want to live with a stranger, I looked him up to make sure. By the way, you'd be surprised what you can find when you Google your own name. For example, did you know—"

"Simon!"

"Right. Oh. Sorry. Anyways, I saw an article about a car crash, in New York. Someone named Jonathan Wayland died. I thought sounded a bit conspicuous, don't you think? Now obviously, Jace isn't dead I was thinking that maybe they got their facts wrong, or it was fake or something. But then I found a couple other articles saying the same thing."

"So you're trying to tell me Jace died in a car crash?" Clary asked in disbelief.

"Obviously not. That's why I paid someone for his file. Look at it, Clary. It says that Jace died about 14 years ago. At the age of 38."

Clary's heart stopped, trying to process this information, "that's not even possible, Simon."

"Exactly. Who is this guy you're living with, Clary?" Silence. "Clary?"

Clary's fingers were clenched around the phone so tight they began to scream in protest, but that's what her whole body was doing—screaming. Except her mouth, which couldn't seem to make any sound at all.

"Clary?" Simon sounded worried now, "Are you okay? Look, if you want to leave, I get it. I can get you the first ticket out of there. You can come stay with m—"

Numbly, Clary hit the end button. Jace... No. This was a mistake. What did that even mean? So? Someone with the same name as Jace died in a car accident. Someone named Jonathan Micheal Wayland.

Or Jace isn't who he says he is.

She thought about the principle coming over, the paper he gripped in his hands, his refusal to answer why he came to the school, his attraction to the blonde haired student. Which one was more likely? That Jace lied about who he was or some sort of relative with his named died in a car crash? It sounded like an oddly ridiculous question, but now she wasn't so sure. Now she was going to find out.

With gritted teeth, Clary searched the house for the next two hours. She checked everything—books, couch, cabinets, plants, picture frames... Wherever Jace could have possibly put the slip of paper. She even searched through the trash (which was gross, but Clary was desperate.)

Finally, finally, she found it. Tucked into the pocket of one of his pants. She stared at it, not sure what to do at first, or what it meant. Celine Horendale was scrawled across it, underneath it an address.

"Queens, huh?" Clary murmured to herself, hoping that Celine would know something about Jace. About this mess of lies... Or misunderstandings. She had to have some faith in Jace, didn't she? Yes. She did, she had to. He had been to sweet to her. But mysterious, much to mysterious.

"Alright, Celine. I hope you can clear this up."

**Sorry it's short guys I was rushed to get it to you. Also...sorry for another (even worse) cliffhanger. What I'm mostly concerned with is that you guys may think this plot is starting to get out of control. Don't worry, though. This was not a simontanious decision, this has all been carefully planned out. **

**(By the way, I got yelled at in like five classes on Friday for daydreaming about how this chapter―and this story in general―will go. Commitment.)**

**Another side note, sorry for spelling and any other mistakes. I was worried you guys would start jumping down my throat (or stop reading) if I didn't update ASAP. **


	9. Visit with Me?

**Okay, okay, okay. I know. This took way too long to write, and it's not even very long. I just haven't really gotten a chance to write (until today obviously) since my last update. Studying for unit finals, finishing up projects, preparing for the soccer tournament in Vegas, etc. etc. This chapter has been created throughout the last week, since I've been struggling for any time. BUT good news :D I'm on break now. Meaning- no tests, no stuco, no school :) still soccer, though. And I'm going to Vegas for a tournament, but you guys will gets something out of the long car rides.**

**Sorry it took so long, I hope you enjoy it.**

About an hour later, Clary found herself standing in front of a blue, two-story house. The grass outside was relatively green for the cold fall that New York had began to transition into. The grass was the only thing that was bright, now slightly scuffed below her black converse. The tree beside her had already lost all of its leaves, it's branches splayed out as if it were to offer an eternal hug. There were no leaves on the ground; it had been windy today, still was. As Clary took a tentative step forward, she had to pull her jacket tighter around herself. She had known the cold seasons weren't far off, but she hadn't quite expected that New York would be this cold. The house before was two stories high, all a nice baby blur with white artfully bordering the windows, doors, and porch. She liked it. On a brighter day, this house, the grass, would have seemed warm and inviting, like the sort of neighbor hood you would see on the TV. But the overcast settled a gray haze over everything, and the world almost seemed slow, tiring. For Clary, she thought it seemed gloomy and it got her mood perfectly.

As Clary stepped onto the empty pavement, her phone began to buzz. She quickly switched it off, in no mood to talk to who was undoubtedly on the other end.

Glancing around, she realized This was the least crowded she had ever seen New York, for in fact the street and sidewalk were uninhabited, but this also looked like a higher class neighborhood of Queens, one more secluded and suitable for family life. Celine Herondale must have a family. The closer she came to the house, the harder her heart began to beat, until the point where it echoed in her skull, taunting her.

Clary stopped again, halfway up the walkway. The paper was still in her hands, which by now were clenched so hard into fists that she doubted one could read past the wrinkles of the crumpled paper.

She didn't know if she could do this, but she wasn't sure why. Clary couldn't recall a time she had ever been so nervous, even when she had been six and performed her first school play. She had been so frightened of messing up in front of everyone that Simon had to take her place. She contemplated turning around, but she knew that she couldn't. Clary had to be brave and walk up to that front door...but what would she say?

Clary didn't get a chance to decide because the front door open, paralyzing her to the pavement with a shocked expression decorated across her face. A small blur of blond hair and laughter rushed past her before a women stepped into the doorway. She had a young face, still soft and free of the exhaustion life seemed to burden with people as they aged.

"Marcus!" She called, sounding exasperated though she was smiling. The second her eyes landed on Clary, however, her mouth popped open in surprise, before she smiled warmly, "Hello there. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Clary felt, for a moment, like a deer in the headlights. She wasn't like Jace, words just didn't come to her mouth naturally without thinking about it. But she managed a smile, telling herself she had nothing to hide from this person, nothing to fake or lie about...yet, "Are you Celine Herondale?" She asked.

The women–who couldn't be in any more than her late twenties—blinked, "Yes, that's me. Is there something I can help you with?"

The little boy, Marcus, brushed past Clary once again as he ran back up the steps. Clary regarded him with only a mild startledness, knowing the little kids could be very full of energy.

"Mommy!" He cried, blonde hair just like his mothers flopping into his eyes as he flew himself into her side, "Who's that lady?"

Clary waved at him, hoping that she wasn't being creepy, "I'm Clarissa Fray," she turned her eyes back to Celine, "and I..." She shifted uncomfortably, "well, there's," should she be honest? She was a horrid liar. Clary took a deep breath, them said, "There's someone you might know...someone I really need to know more about."

"Who?" She asked her arm going around Marcus protectively.

Clary's face was red, but she tipped her chin up and took another deep breath, "Jonathan."

Celine looked surprised, but that was it. She hadn't paled, she hadn't started screaming or yelling, she just nodded, looking almost solemn, "You must be cold, why don't you come in?"

Jace POV

Jace threw open the door with a small grin on his face. He had something he was excited to show Clary, "Honey?" He drawled as he entered the apartment, "I'm home."

Jace was met by silence as he walked inside and set his bag down. His lips turned down in a frown as he glanced around, noticing the lack of the adorable, yet feisty little red head, "Clary?"

After a very brief search of the apartment, he decided to call her phone, but there was no answer. There was a sudden tightening to his chest, one that slowly began to ignite a deep dread that he fought to squelch. It was the first time since he had met her since he had come home to an empty house, but that didn't mean Clary never left, not was she required to stay. She could simply be at the mall, and her phone could have died.

Jace suspected that maybe she had left a note, though the search that ensued was more so to preoccupy himself from worry than to legitimately search. Jace was no fool, he had read into the way Clary had been acting since the night before. Something was bothering her. Looking around the house, he began to notice misplaced items that Clary normally would not leave out—books left laying beside the shelves, picture frames turned down or moved, cushions hastily tossed onto the couch, even clothes thrown astray. Clary—or someone—must have been looking for something, though he couldn't imagine what.

Concern beginning to boil over like tea on a kettle, Jace called Sebastian, pacing around the room while he did so. When Sebastian responded by saying he hadn't talked to Clary since nearly the day she arrived, he tried Alec, the Isabelle. None of them had seen her, and Jace didn't know what to do.

Clary POV

"So how did you know Jonathan?" Celine asked as Clary stepped inside, out if the cold fall air.

Know Jonathan? Clary thought, picking up on the past tense like a bird may a worm. She thought of the file Simon sent her earlier, saying that Jace—or someone with Jace's name—was dead. How should she respond, though? As if he were really dead? Clary chewed her lip and did neither, "Through my brother," she answered, a statement that could be taken both ways.

"Oh? Were they good friends?" Celine's voice drifted from the kitchen, where she had wondered off to while Clary removed her shoes.

In the entryway, several pictures hung in the entryway, but before Clary could get a closer look at them, Marcus tugged at her coat.

Clary frowned and looked down at him, offering a tentative smile, "Hello."

"I like your hair," he said as Celine walked back in.

"Marcus, why don't you go up to your room?" The little blond boy looked reluctant, but did as his mother told him.

"Can I get you anything?" The elder girl asked as she led Clary into the icing room, "Water? Tea? Crackers?"

"Just water would be fine, thank you," Clary responded, trying her best to be pleasant and kind. Celine nodded and wandered off into the kitchen while Clary took a seat on the couch. Curiously, she gazed around, wondering to herself why Jace could have possibly been given this address.

A picture caught her eye, propped into the coffee table. It was of a little girl, not much older than Marcus, with blonde ringlets, baring a toothy smile. The little girl looked familiar, and she suspected it was because she resembled Celine, or Marcus. And tucked beside it in the same frame is a smaller picture of Marcus, golden eyes twinkling mysteriously. Golden eyes...

Something seemed to click. Clary frowned as she studied the pictures, side by side. Celine stepped back into the room, to which Clary's attention snapped back to, studying the women as well. She didn't resemble the kids as much as she had originally though, her hair to bright to belong to Marcus's and the other girl—though she did share their blue eyes.

"May ask if you are in a relationship?" Clary asked through a dry throat.

Celine smiled pleasantly, placing a glass in front of Clary as she took a seat beside her.

"I'm married, actually," Celine answered, holding up a single hand to demonstrate a ring, "We have three children together."

Clary's head began to spin. She had seen the faces of those children before, daily. The resemblance was so uncanny she felt sick.

"Are you alright, Clary?"

"I... I'm sorry. I must go..." she stood up abruptly, nearly knocking her knees against the coffee table as she did so. Celine stood up in protest, but Clary moved swiftly past her, making her way to the door where she quickly stuffed her shoes back on. She saw one last picture on her way out, that that made it hard for her to breath—the blonde girl from the other night, smiling proudly and beautiful.

"Clary?" Alec stood up in surprise as the red head stumbled into the bar, gasping for breath, "Clary, are you alright?"

Clary hadn't exactly wanted to come here, but she didn't know where else to go. Her phone had died on the subway, so she had no way of contacting Sebastian. She knew that she didn't want to go back to Jace's apartment, or some random place in New York.

"I'm fine," she answered shakily, avoiding his eyes. He was Jace's brother, so surely he knew about Celine and the children. Alec reached his arm out to her in a comforting manner, to which Clary jerked back as if he were holding a weapon.

Alec looked startled. He opened his mouth to ask a question but Clary just shook her head, "Call Sebastian and ask him to pick me up," and when he didn't reply, nor make a move to call her brother, she added, "_Please_."

Alec studied Clary, a frown etched across his face. Without a word, he turned around. The second he was gone, Clary seemed to collapse in on herself. She ran a hand down her face and tried to take deep, even breaths. Sebastian would come pick her up. She'd tell him that she couldn't do this anymore, that she wanted to go home and to tell Jace she was sorry. She could live with Simon for a little bit...

Speaking of Simon, she checked her phone and saw that she had received several frantic texts and phone calls from him. She _had_ hung up on him earlier that day, hadn't she? He had told her something about Jace she didn't believe, and now she didn't know. Who was Jace? Jonathan Wayland was dead. But as if that wasn't enough, Jace had the name and address of a very pretty girl tucked into his jean pocket, and that girl had two—no, three?—children who look like him...

"Here, Clary, come sit down," Alec said gently, reappearing from wherever he had gone behind the bar. She didn't particularly want to do anything of the sort, longing to put as much space between herself and Jace—and anything that has to do with him. But she just nodded and walked over silently, slumping down at one of the bar stools. He handed her a glass of water. Since her head was still spinning, Clary couldn't find any harm in drinking it.

Clary and Alec lapsed into a silence as she slowly sipped her water, waiting anxiously for Sebastian to walk through the door and take her away from this mess. Vaguely, she wondered if this counted as running away from your problems, but it couldn't? This wasn't her problem, this was Jace's. And yes, she was going back on her word to stay with him and pretend to be his wife, but Jace was being much more dishonest than she was (if that was even his name).

The sound of the door clicking shut had both Clary and Alec snapping their heads up. Alec looked grateful, and Clary had the sense he had been uncomfortable with her refusal to speak, but she didn't exactly want to talk to someone who was in on this giant, awful lie. Clary climbed off the stool, ready to escape, and came face to face with Jace.

Clary told herself that the next time she saw Jace, she would be ready to confront him, to yell at him for being such a horrid liar. She was upset and hurt, and she was ready to make Jace face that wrath. But she also wasn't expecting to see him so soon. Still, she got ready for her lecture. When she looked up and met his eyes, however, the words faded from her lips, leaving it open in a small little "oh" shape.

He looked angry—no, furious. Clary didn't thinks he had ever seen such a hard look in Jace's eyes, and she didn't like it. It was terrifying. His eyes wandered over her as he opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it into a hard line, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Clary stood deadly still, refusing to meet his deadly beautiful eyes. Then, suddenly, she was in his arms, pressed tightly against him, "Dear God, Clary," he breathed in her ear, his grip on her tightening, "Do you have any idea how worried I've been?" he still sounded angry, but there was relief in his voice, also. He pulled away after she wouldn't return the hug, hands going up to her shoulders instead. He met her eyes, "Where the hell were you?"

"Why should you even care?" Clary snapped, startling them both.

"Clary..." his voice had lost it's hard edge, "What do you-"

"What are you even doing here?" she interrupted, not in the mood to hear whatever lie he was about to tell.

Once again, Jace was surprised, but then even that emotion faded, hidden behind an impassive mask, "Alec called me," he said flatly.

"He wasn't meant to," she responded crossly, "I didn't want you here. I wanted Sebastian to come pick me up."

Jace looked exasperated, as if he were talking to an illogical child, "Why would he even-"

"I'm going home Jace," he looked annoyed as she interrupted him once again, but then he frowned.

"You could have called me to take you home."

"No," she gritted her teeth, "I'm going back to Florida."

**So... cliffhanger after cliffhanger. What do you guys think is happening? Who is Jace, really?**


	10. Drink with Me?

**I know that it took much, much too long to update for this. For that I am very honestly sorry. I didn't mean to make you wait this long. I was mad at myself for making you all wait. I promise it will NEVER take that long again. Expect updates frequently. I'll spare you the excuses. I have my reasons, and if you want to know them an message me, but otherwise I just want to apologize and tell you all how thankful I am for all of you. ALSO HAPPY NEW YEAR!**

The look that crossed Jace's face, then, was hard to read. He looked surprised, mostly, but the look lay deeper than that. Most plainly, it was disbelief in the most bitter sense—a look that said he had been in a situation similar to this, once, and somehow it was morbidly amusing. What lay further beyond that, however, was a look of horror so raw it cut into Clary like a double-edged sword. The look one would expect of a child recently abandoned, or of a newly found widow.

This was a new side of the narcissistic Jace, one she had not been expecting. The way it triggered her empathy made her throat go dry, made her yearn to assure him everything was going to be okay. Yet, she remembered all she discovered of this man today, and she had to be contempt.

Finally, after a great deal of struggle, Jace schooled his features back into the impassive mask she had become familiar with. He still seemed at a loss of words, the way his voice strained as he asked, "Why?"

"New York isn't worth it anymore," Clary managed with some asperity, remembering their conversation when she first came here, when he asked her why she agreed to be his fake wife instead of just going home. She had answered, wistfully so, that it was the city and the opportunities that awaited her once this task was over.

Something in her words seemed to be the unbecoming of Jace. His fist clenched at his sides in a hint of the anger she had seen earlier, yet his shoulders were slumped rather than strained, as if he had been defeated, "Worth it?" he repeated quietly.

"I miss home," she said in a softer voice, wanting to offer him some comfort—and in was true to some part, "I miss Simon and my mom..."

"You can visit them anytime," Alec said, putting his hand on Jace's shoulder, who seemed to straighten—though only slightly—at the touch. It was the first time he had spoken since Jace got here, "No one has taken them away from you."

Clary shut her eyes, taking a deep breath. She was tired of this conversation. She just wanted to go, to not have to look at Jace and feel so confused and upset.

"I don't like it here anymore," she said as she reopened her eyes, putting venom into the words that she didn't even feel. She actually loved it here. The loved the energy. And she loved that the city had everything. Jace had told her how much he liked being small compared to it, something she had been trying to paint. She had loved that, too. Not so much in the sense Jace did, she just liked the way Jace thought. It was poetic.

A bright light flashed through the window of the bar as a car drove into the parking lot.

"I called Sebastian," Alec said coolly, "he didn't pick up so I left him a voicemail."

"Thank you," She whispered stiffly, avoiding his harsh stare. Her eyes found Jace's, surprised at his silence. Jace had the tendency to comment and most anything. His lack of narcissistic comments was uncharacteristic. Or, possibly, his confidence was just a pretense, and therefore uncharacteristic to his true self.

Jace just shook his head, "Clary..."

Clary lowered her eyes again, unable to bear the defeated look that haunted his face, "Goodbye Jace," she bit her lip as she turned, watching Sebastian through the window as he stepped out of the car.

"Clary, wait," Jace's voice was more urgent this time, as if he didn't think her leaving was a reality until now, as if he were terrified, "You can't..." He reached out to her, though Clary was out of arms length.

She didn't turn around, simply kept walking. She didn't dare glance back until she was out of the bar, until Sebastian was standing in front of her. His face was etched in concern, ready to ask her what could be thousands of questions, but she just shook her head; she wasn't ready to answer questions she didn't know the answer to.

As she stepped into the car, she glance back at the window. Jace's arm remained outstretched, fingers grasping at nothing. His shoulders were slumped, his face slack. Alec slung his arm around his brother's shoulders and began to lead him over to the bar. His mouth was moving, but Jace didn't seem to be paying attention to whatever it was that he was saying.

Sebastian lightly touched Clary's arm, pulling her attention away from the brothers.

"Come on, Clary. Let's get you home. We can talk about it later."

Clary didn't know if she would be able to talk about it later, or ever, but she just nodded and got in the car, feeling oddly numb inside, though she knew she had made the right choice—hadn't she?

-  
"What do you want?" Jace groaned through tangled blankets and tossed pillows. Someone had knocked on the door, and had walked in once he refused to open it, "Some of us like to sleep in."

"Why are you sleeping on the couch."

"Oh. You," Jace groaned and pushed the blanket down. He looked strangely unkept for what those who know him have become accustomed to, "Have you come to fulfill the archetypical role of a brother coming to avenge his broken hearted sister? If so, I feel as if you may need to re-analyze the situation. Though it seems unlikely of someone with such a charming character as myself, because I have—"

"I'm here to get Clary's things."

That seemed to sober Jace's usual, forced narcissistic mood, "Oh." He fell back onto the couch—he had refused to sleep on the bed in a quixotic hope that Clary would return. She hadn't, and he hadn't exactly been surprised, either.

Sebastian sighed, "She didn't want to come see you, Jace."

"And what charming news that is. Is there anything productive you would like to add that, perhaps, is more cheerful?"

"She's leaving today. She told me she wanted to leave as soon as possible."

"Ah, there you are," Jace continued in an uncharacteristic, yet comedic, dejected manner—the way one in pain may mock their injury to hide its severity, "That one was much more cheerful, really.

"Are you listening to what I'm saying, Jonathan?"

Jace sat up and gave Sebastian a long look of exasperated patience, "Yes, I am. I'm just not entirely sure what you want me to do about it."

"You're not even going to try and stop her?"

"Perhaps I would if it were something I did..." for a moment, Jace gave pause, remembering that Clary had searched through his things the day before, that she had been acting oddly.

"What did you do?" Sebastian asked, crossing his arms.

Jace shook his head, "Nothing," he said, half to himself and half in reply, lost in thought.

"Jace?"

"My point is, Sebastian, what we made Clary agree to was outrageous and idiotic—to think that she agreed to it at all is beyond comprehension. And from the very beginning, she has been homesick. And New York isn't what she was expecting, I suppose. Surprisingly enough, our fake engagement and my intoxicating company was not enough to supply what was lacking. And while this has been a rather enjoyable conversation of how I failed in romancing your sister, I would enjoy it even more if you left so I could catch up on my unnecessary beauty sleep."

While Jace talked, Sebastian began to collect Clary's things. He began to make his way to the door, fed up with trying to make Jace's wounded pride see reason. Then, before the door, he stopped. Without turning back, Sebastian added, "Her plane leaves at three. I hope you don't make a choice you'll regret."

"I never do," Jace called as the door shut, before he sank back knot the couch, shaking his head, "I lost the ability to regret fourteen years ago."

"Bye Sebastian," Clary whispered as she pulled her brother into a giant hug, her suitcase standing at her side. She made sure to bury her face into his shoulder, to remember his scent and just about everything about him because she didn't know when she would see him again. She didn't know if she would ever come back to New York, "I'll miss you."

Sebastian ruffled her hair like he used to do when they were younger, though she found it much more endearing now than she had then, "Don't worry, Clary-berry, I'll come visit you soon."

Clary pulled away and managed a small, pathetic smile, "Alright. I'll say 'hi' to mom for you."

Sebastian led Clary to the door as she took her bag, "The cab should be downstairs."

"Okay," Clary whispered, not able to find any more power to her voice. She felt like she was giving up, doing this. Like she was running away. She had always loathed girls in literature who did exactly what she was, leaving. But she didn't want Jace to chase after her, or so she told herself. No. He was nothing but a tangled mess of lies. He wasn't worth the trouble.

Yet, in her heart, she felt as if she had never told a stronger lie to herself. When she got into the cab, she felt something in her stomach contract, trying to tell her she was making a mistake. She had felt the same feeling in her stomach on her way to New York, though. It was an empty threat caused by a fear of not knowing what she was going to do next. As an artist, it was a sort if lifestyle she should prefer, shouldn't it? Being spontaneous? Or perhaps her fear was not of the unplanned or uncontrolled, but of opportunities she could be missing by leaving.

She thought of Jace, of a curved smile that told the world of a security in appearance few possessed. Of hard, lean muscle that slid gracefully under the skin. Blonde hair that fell into the face, and golden eyes that could hold you captive with a single look, melt you into a puddle of unrecognizable human mush. She thought of his deep voice that never seemed to stop—fitting he became a teacher, as he must like to hear himself speak—and that deep sound that pierced the atmosphere when he laughed, the kind of sound that creates religions. But these are all things anyone could notice about a person by a simple observation. What did she really know about Jace? That somewhere, under the pretense of wit and sexual attraction, there lay a vulnerability, a kindness, a sadness; the simple characteristics of any other human in the world. But why must that be the vulnerable side of him, one that must be covered up? Why must he-

"Miss. Miss?"

The cab had pulled up to the airport. She hadn't even realized it, had barely noticed the cab had started...

"Oh. Yes. Sorry," Clary dug into her pocket and pulled out a twenty, handing it to him, "Keep the change," she climbed out of the cab, her feet barely making it to the ground before it sped away, "There's that New York attitude," she whispered, echoing some of the first words Jace had ever said to her.

-

"Jace? I thought you said—"

"I know what I said," Jace checked his watch and frowned, "I just need to know if Clary's here. Please."

He had knocked on huge door a couple minutes after Clary had gotten into the cab, looking frantic and unkept.

There was a pause. Sebastian debated in whether or not to answer, before he let out a sharp breath of submission, "You just missed her." He said, shaking his head, "You shouldn't have waited until the last minute."

Sebastian had, admittedly, been angry to discover Jace hadn't come to say goodbye to his little sister. She had tried to hide it, tried to act as if she hadn't expected him to, or she hadn't wanted him to—but Sebastian knew that Clary was disappointed. For that reason, he thought he would feel satisfied when Jace finally showed up—and Sebastian knew that Jace would, because something had changed in Jace since Sebastian introduced him to Clary. He cared about her. And Jace was the type of guy that took care of the things he cared about. No matter how wounded his pride may be, Jace wouldn't let her leave without saying goodbye. Or trying to.

Yet, Sebastian felt no satisfaction from the look on Jace's face. He looked defeated, vulnerable... broken. With a sigh, Sebastian stepped aside to let his friend in. At the gesture, however, Jace seemed to recover from the onslaught of emotions. He took up his usual pretense of arrogance, a sour mood replacing his upset one. Or rather, merging to create an all around nightmare.

"I need a drink," he mumbled as he walked inside, shoulders slightly slumped. Sebastian noted that, though today was a school day, Jace lacked his formal attire...and he had slept in late. Curiously, he wondered if Jace had called in sick today.

"You might be able to still catch her at the airport, if you leave now," Sebastian suggested.

Jace shook his head, "I'm not going after her," he said.

"Why not?"

"Clary left me, and I have very little reason to suspect any other cause other than that she desired to—either because she was homesick, or she no longer wants to live with me, to bear my presence. Either way, it's her decision. Who am I to stop her, simply because I don't want her to leave?

Sebastian had to take a moment to fathom what Jace had just said, and even longer to gather any way to respond to it. Jace, meanwhile, stalked into his friend's kitchen in search for some decent liquor.

Stressed, Sebastian ran his fingers through his hair, "It just doesn't sound like Clary," he said at last, "To just leave like that..."

"And you're saying?"

"All I'm saying is you should...just find out why she left."

"Will do," Jace grumbled, returning with a bottle of whiskey, "But first I'm plan on getting drunk in your humble abode," he gesture widely around the expensive looking apartment, "Now, If you don't mind me—Hey!"

Sebastian had plucked the bottle out of Jace's hands, "You're not getting drunk. I'm going to go take a shower. You're going to wait here."

"And do what?"

Sebastian shrugged, "watch TV or something. Just stay out of my liquor cabinet."

Feeling much like a reprimanded teenage boy, Jace crossed his arms and began grumbling about how he was an adult and shouldn't be told what to do. Meanwhile, Sebastian rolled his eyes and headed up stairs.

Jace eventually succumbed to Sebastian's suggestion, sinking back into the couch. Before he could hit the power button, however, the doorbell rang before he could.

"Sebastian!" Jace called. There was no response. The doorbell rang again. Grumbling under his breath, Jace lifted himself to his feet to answer the door. On the other side stood a man with short brown hair tousled on top of his head, and glasses.

"Who are you?" Jace snapped. Something about him tickled Jace's memory, gave him the brief image of a pencil across paper. Jace was in too sour of a mood, however, to care to ask. There was something about the stranger that only ticked him off further.

"Is that you, Sebastian?" He squinted through the thick rim of his glasses, "You look different."

"I'm not Sebastian," Jace replied with a eat deal of exaggerated offense, "I'm his stunningly attractive friend who wants you to leave because he's not here."

The stranger only blinked, seemingly unfazed by Jace's brash nature, "I'm here for Clary," he said, "Is she here?"

Mention of Clary only made Jace's current temper worse, "No, she's not here," he scowled, "and you shouldn't be either," because he still didn't move, Jace groaned, "Obviously you're too dimwitted to pick up on my subtle hints. So I'll be blunt; go away." He shut the door, then, but Clary's friend stuck his foot out before he could.

"Look," Jace began, "I understand that it's rare to be in the presence of one such as myself, but-"

"You must be Jace."

Jace's words fell away in surprise. He blinked for a moment, shock blazing in his eyes. The man took the opportunity to open the door fully. Jace didn't stop him. Then, suddenly, Jace began to grin. It was rare when one could knock Jace off composure for long.

"The one and only," he said through air of superiority, "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that Clary would speak of me to her friends. What was it that gave me away? My deadly good looks? My-"

"Your charming personality, actually," Clary's friend said in a flat voice, "but I need to talk to Clary."

"And I told you that she isn't here," Jace drawled in that patronizing way of his, though a bit of pain flashed in his golden eyes, "I'm not sure how hard it could be to grasp such a simple concept, but I'm concerned that you might be-"

"Do you know where she is?" The man interrupted in exasperation.

"Half way to Florida, by now," Jace answered. He waited patiently for a response, but none came. The other man had paled significantly. Jace shifted impatiently before he sighed, "What do you want with her, anyway?" He demanded.

"My name is Simon," he whispered, eyes wide, "I'm her best friend. And I think I'm the reason that she... Uh, left you."

**again, expect updates soon (easily within the next three days). I hope you all had very happy holidays :) happy new year! Once again, very sorry.**


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